


The Asterisk Crossroad

by suzyelf



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2018-09-13 11:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 66,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9122287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzyelf/pseuds/suzyelf
Summary: N has many names: Cha Hakyeon is one of them, and the Most Scandalous Celebrity of the Year is another. The only thing left for him to redeem himself is the story of Lost Land and playing the role of “Kim Wonshik”---an autobiography by Ravi.Out of the cast ensemble, Ken has always been the one and only for Ravi; N is unsure about how to approach Ken and Ravi's love story.As the movie launches into action, Hongbin writes his own wishful tale with his soulmate Leo.With the paparazzi out there to bring N down, Fate is going to avenge them all as N crosses their paths.





	1. For My Light

**Author's Note:**

> I worked on this for a year. I can't abandon this story. And there are more chapters coming. Happy reading. - suzyelf

 

 

# Lost Land

  
 

Ravi writes because of N.

 Hakyeon’s extended arm is beckoning Wonshik to come closer. Hakyeon’s fluid body rides the wave of the rhythm. For a second, it is as if he will embrace him. Enchanted by the merman before him, Wonshik floats closer to decrease their distance, only to realize that Hakyeon is the wave. He is also the tornado spinning on his pointed toe, wrecking everything in its direct proximity, including Wonshik’s body and soul, and his everything. Hakyeon flies through air on his hind leg, escaping the underwater and Wonshik clumsily backs away. Hakyeon’s bottomless pits are disguised as eyes; he watches Wonshik fall deeper into the ocean with no mercy. The majestic being stands still as a statue on shore. Hakyeon does nothing to save Wonshik from succumbing to his own miserable pit.

 Ravi looks up from his writing to the TV. No words can do Hakyeon’s grace justice. On the screen, Hakyeon’s movement gives life to the inanimate stage. His gaze directs at Ravi, as if it says: “Come and challenge me.” Ravi’s script wrinkles inside his deadly grip. He smirks. He will go to him. Ravi will make him remember that he was Hakyeon’s other half. The race won’t be complete without him.

If it can, Ravi will make sure it cannot.

  
  
 

  
 

# Radio Station

 

N puts on the headphone that transforms him into his role.

“‘Yeon DJ!’” He reads out the message on the screen before him. “‘I have a problem! I can’t stop thinking about you.’”

N’s smile is kind. Although the radio listeners can’t watch him, the staff are bathed in his warmth instead. “I can’t stop thinking about all of you too, my Starlights!” He kisses his fans behind the mic.

N plays the song composed by him for his fans called “My Light”.

At this is point in his career, he has nothing but his loyal fans who has been with him for more than a year or since debut. “‘You shine brighter than the stars in the sky,’” hums N. “‘You call out to me with those pretty lips.’” It’s true that N wouldn’t be shining without his admirers buying his music and supporting him on every show. No one will ever understand the satisfaction of having someone out there appreciating your heart and soul, except for artists and creators. N sighs. He doesn’t think that his fans know his genuinity, regardless of how many songs are dedicated to them. “Go ahead,” his manager Yook Sungjae said. “Fans dig these kind of corny stuff.” N smacked him. He’s not doing what he loves for money and fame. He truly appreciates them.

“‘Will you always stay there? / I’ll always be with you. You’re my light,’” confesses N through lyrics and melody.

N’s daydream is cut off by some whispers in his headphone:

“We should have invited Bernard Park instead. He’s so much more popular nowadays.”

“Are you crazy?! He will hear you!”

Thanks to some acting lessons he’s taking recently, N’s facial muscles do not flinch. Maybe he did not learn any acting from those useless lessons; he learned it from five years of being an idol.

Because of those people talking behind his back, N’s love for his fans grows exponentially. He is too loyal to the true fans who won’t flatter him for their own greedy gain or career boost. They won’t be those two-sided blades that will cut him deep into the bones and let him bleed to death. N won’t take advantage of someone else for his own selfish goals either, so he loathes whoever that thinks that they can use him as stepping stone.

The radio is back on air. N feeds the next message to the microphone: “‘Wonderful song! I promise I will always be your strength. Fighting!’

“Thank you.”

N is an idol. His smile can conceal his tears.

  
  
 

  
 

# Jellyfish Entertainment

  
 

His bad fate begins with Ravi and his Lost Land.

Ravi’s script stares back at N on the table. It is an invitation that challenges him to a life-or-death duel.

Sungjae, as always, is pestering him about the digital and album sales of his new song: almost sixty-thousands copies sold… number ten on the music chart… not satisfying results… I will absolutely kill you for real this time... N already learned how to pick up the most important things in his manager’s depressing soliloquy.

N flips open the script. Amongst the lines, his eyes burn through the name “Kim Wonshik”.

“Have you read the script yet?” asks Sungjae, finally stopped his unproductive ramble.

Lost Land is the movie title. Its creator is Ravi. “I did.”

Sungjae raises his eyebrow after getting a reaction from N. “Good. You’ll meet the director in about now.” He curses “the bastard” under his breath for being late.

N in a subtle breath. Still, his heartbeat is out of its normal rhythm. His heart is going to burst like it is his debut day before he performs on public broadcast. He attempts to prepare a speech when he meets Ravi---or whoever he is. It is silly of N to relate the Kim Wonshik that he knows to a fictional character who bears the same name. There are many chilling coincidences in the world. “Kim Wonshik” is a common name. So why is N getting so agitated? The clock ticks. Ravi doesn’t show up. N regrets not Googling who Ravi is earlier.

N has no memories of Ravi.

Someone walks in the same time N pulls out his search engine. He gets up hurriedly in a panic. They bow to each other. N shakes his fringe to hide his shimmering eyes.

“It’s good to see you again, Hakyeon,” the low voice greets N using his real name.

“You too, Kim Wonshik.”

N cannot process anything at all. The world should be a whirlwind right now and in the eye of the storm is Kim Wonshik or Ravi, but N’s mind is an scraped clean blank slate, except for one question: what in the Hell is he doing here?

And then N is too quickly remembers why he is here without Ravi’s reminder.

They will go to Seoul one day - that’s the promise they had with each other since middle school. They will go to one of the SKY universities together and play on sport teams. Wonshik will continue his basketball career and N will lead the soccer team. They will graduate somehow and find an office job in a big company in Seoul. Each of them will marry a nice city girl and have a few kids. They will still remain good friends then. Life can go on more or less the same. Hakyeon can still be Wonshik’s the other half. As senior year approached, their plan was becoming vivid reality than just big abstract talk. “I want to go to Seoul too,” Wonshik echoed his words. He did not know that his words sounded empty to Hakyeon’s ears.

They made it in Seoul. They are now currently opposing each other on a long table in a meeting room after ten years apart.

Ravi radiates a winning smile. His pearly white teeth are reserved for a won dance competition or a basketball game; N understands that look too well. “I’ve waited for this moment for so long, Hakyeon. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Why do you want me to play you?”

Ravi’s smile wanes, as if his trophy is slipping out of his grasp. “You knew my childhood the best and you’re popular. I only trust you to be my protagonist.”

“I don’t trust myself. I don’t know much about you now.”

Ravi leans in against the table. His eyes flamed, determined to get the prize that he deserves. “That’s not true. We were bestfriends.”

Ravi made a horrible mistake that he can’t take back.

N grimaces. “Exactly.”

  
 

# Bar

  
 

The dim bar cannot conceal his doomed fate.

Another shot of vodka burns N’s throat. It tries to cleanse the misfortune in his mind more than in his body.

His dark shifty pupils take in his empty shot glass. His mind flies elsewhere though. Where did things begin to go wrong?---this is a question that plagued his nights.

Things began to go wrong with Kim Wonshik.

The way Ravi imposed himself on N is threatening. Ravi is that ugly grad photo that N stashed away in the back of his closet. A dark history that he hasn’t looked at for years. All sort of embarrassing memories will resurface if he stares at it for too long. Those could be joy, frustration, irritations with school and the people in it. All N can taste after is regret. And Ravi reminds him of that.

But no. To be fair, things did not start going off his course of plan with that man. It was his own fault too.

“You lost fifty-seven fans this week.” N recalls Sungjae’s report of his fancafe rank. “Your junior Bernard Park is five places above you.” He was obviously crossed. He was mad at the company’s failed strategy to promote the solo singer but mostly he was disappointed with N.

“You should have agreed to feature a rapper for your new song. Bernard Park wouldn't be your competition if he didn't collaborate with Verbal Jint. People will forget about you if you don't have another hit. Your good looks can only get you so far,” Sungjae said, half jokingly. N and Sungjae are famous for being twins in the company. The manager quickly hid his smile. “Seriously, dude. You gotta listen to your boss. You’re in the fifth year of your career now. You can’t afford another failure. Today’s Bernard Park. Tomorrow can be Eric Nam. You’ll be forgotten by everyone if you don’t have another hit.

“Remember how you got here. You don’t want all your effort to go to waste.”

N argued that a ballad song should not have an unnecessary rap part, especially this comeback was the first promotional song composed by him. It was his song. He was overconfident of his own ability to capture the audience.

N thought that he would clear his reputation of being an “one-hit wonder” and maintained his top spot as the national soloist and dance prodigy.

“Do you want to see everything you worked so hard for to go down the drain?”

N made a mistake and now he has to pay for it.

He shows a stack of cash on the bar table, preparing to leave. He pulls his black baseball cap low over his face that is shielded behind the coal sunglasses and the medical mask.

“Hey, cutie,” says a man stumbling upon him and coos. His alcoholic breath pricks N’s tingling cheek.

 

N backs away from him. He has enough problems on his plate to deal with a drunkard. He will leave the bar full of men looking for each other if that leech will let go of the collar of his leather jacket.

N wrenches his wrist away and breaks into a run through the back door.

Footsteps haunt him in the dark alley. He suddenly experiences vertigo; he trips over his foot unlike a graceful dancer he is suppose to be. He slams his right hand onto the wall for support. N winces from the pain.

A rough hand pulls him back by gripping onto his jacket. “You’re N---that singer on TV.” The same drunkard breathes terror into N’s frail body. “Why was N drinking at a gay bar?” His laugh is maniacal, suggesting that this person is crazy. Crazy people are unpredictable; a threat that must be removed.

N flings his arm away as hard as he can to get away from the harasser. The drunkard falters but does not go down completely. His amusement in his eyes are now replaced with unforgiving rage. He swings his fist at N’s face and sends his sunglasses flying. The man sneers. “You are him. Your stupid fangirls will die if they find out that you’re gay.” A cruel smirk carves his ugly face. “What should you do about it?”

N freezes on the spot. The worst night turns into his worst nightmare. He would be laughing in this situation if he isn't N. It will be funny to see Sungjae going ghost-pale when the public finds out that N is a homoual and all the hopes of him climbing the fancafe rank will dash. In fact, he can kiss his whole life goodbye.

All he knows in his whole life ae dancing and singing.

N cannot allow the worst nightmare to happen.

N dodges the next attack that aims at his abdomen. His elbow swiftly drives straight into the small of the gross man’s back, cracking his spine. He gasps out loud. N seizes his neck as leverage, fingernails digging into windpipe, as his knees bruising his stomach over and over again. The man falls over under his blind fury, wheezing for oxygen.

N is unsure what he is doing. It is the alcohol. It is that man. It is everything.

N is the most beloved soloist of the country.

He has many fans he needs to protect.

N needs to guard his image first if he doesn't want to break their hearts.

  
  
  
 

  
 

# N's

 

His heavy head almost knocks him over as soon as he opens his eyes in the late morning.

N can only think about his headache right now. He gets off his bed to look for some aspirin to lessen the pain of his hangover. Any business has to wait, like his email inbox and voice messages that have been exploding throughout the early hours.

After swallowing the pill, he walks over to his covered windows on wobbly feet. He throws the navy blue curtains aside like any other regular mornings. Instead of fearing the anonymous paparazzi living in the building across from his, he allows some freedom by enjoying the morning sunray basking his bronze skin. His fans call him the “Dark Knight”. The endearing nickname has stuck with him since debut, he grew to believe in it too, like a warrior fulling the prophecy. N is a knight in shining armor. He is the dream lover and protector of all his admirer. His songs are their voices. His smile is their strength. So are theirs to him. His fans are a big source of his motivation. His lover might leave but his fan base remains loyal to him...

His smile drops immediately; last night’s event at the bar comes rushing back. He worries his bottom lips as he sees in his mind’s eyes clearly now that every blow landed on that man equaled a hard strike on his own career. His knees collapses underneath him. He clasps his hands on either sides of his throbbing head. If he was sober last night, he would have negotiate with the blackmailer like any rational adult would do. His irrationality got a better grip of his mind and caused him to lash out his personal frustration on a poor stranger. His career will be over if anyone finds out about his fight.

Unless someone has already found out about his fatal mistake…

Another message tone goes off. The beeping sound signals his heart rate on the monitor becoming a flat line. N is too scared to pick up his phone.

All of his muscles are paralyzed and his mind completely shuts down. His gut feeling predicts the worst case scenario.

N doesn’t read today’s top entertainment news item that is shaking up the whole country.

  
  
 

# Ravi’s

  
 

The glass vase shatters, breaks in pieces because of the ceramic paperweight that Ravi threw across the room. Ravi sees the cat-shaped object came apart too.

Son of a . If Ravi finds that bastard that laid his filthy hands on N, he will be executed on the spot. They will not exchange questions and answers. How dare he got N before he did?

Something salty sticks at the corner of his lips. All is lost. His laugh reverberates in his dim open office. The street lamps outside cast shadows in his room and his own thoughts. He despises melodrama in his own writing, so why is he crying? Everything will eventually be alright anyway when he is the writer. He will make his own ending.

“Top Soloist Assaulted Innocent Civilian at a Gay Bar: N Is Coming Out?!”--- it is amazing how it only takes thirteen words to destroy someone’s life. And his own.

Ravi believes that if he endures the hardship of becoming a writer just a little longer, all will be worth it when he meets him again. Who does Fate take him for? It won’t stop him from going to him. He will prove himself to everyone.

Ravi doesn't believe in Fate anyway.

If that son of a can ruin N, why can't it be Ravi?

It’s not fair.

If N’s dream is going to be a puff of smoke after that thirteen words are out, why did he have to leave Ravi in the first place? There are no reason for them to be apart for all these years. Ravi doesn't have to suffer trying so hard all by himself just to prove his worth. He can hear Fate laughing at him, taking him as an idiot. All those years mean nothing now that his opponent is defeated by someone else.

Ravi dabs tears away with his hands. This is ridiculous. He shouldn’t be crying.

  
 

* * *

 


	2. Romeo and the Knight Fall

# N’s

Hakyeon's body is light in Leo’s arms. He hugs the sleeping man close to his chest before dropping him on his bed like an angel's feather. The netizens once loved to call Hakyeon the "Dark Knight". Leo finds the name dashing, intriguing. He is the hero behind everyone’s joy and sorrow. He’s always here to protect his fans. He caresses Hakyeon’s tear-stained cheeks. He is an angel without wings now. He is all alone without his future or Leo himself. He will not apologize to Hakyeon. Apologies will not right every wrong; there’s nothing Leo can do.

Leo moves to the kitchen to pick up the broken glass pieces. It used to hold up the red, staining wine. While his slender fingers are threading through the hurtful remnants, his mind prefers to think of the happier time, before Hakyeon lost everything he had worked so hard for. Leo remembers that one precious night when Hakyeon had a free day. For a few hours, Hakyeon was free of the burden of being a celebrity and he was only Leo’s. Leo finished work at the TV station past midnight. The spices in the air greeted him at Hakyeon’s door. Beads of sweat slid down Hakyeon’s temples as he was trying to assemble a dish of chicken linguini.

Leo wrapped his arms around Hakyeon's waist. "I didn't know that linguini is suppose to be spicy."

Hakyeon elbowed him away. In response, Leo tightened his embrace. That night, they ravished Hakyeon's cheese-fried chips and Leo’s kimchi ramen on the couch. Two glasses of Hakyeon's treasured wine perched on the coffee table. They watched the re-run of the _Stairway to Heaven_ at four in the morning. Leo dozed off first with Hakyeon snuggled against his laps. He was probably crying his eyes out because of the old-school soap opera. Leo regretted falling asleep before him. He would have wiped his face clean. Leo hated Hakyeon's tear-stained cheeks.

Leo stops his memories in their track. He is in danger of going through the pain all over again. He packs up the baggage of shattered glass and throws it in the trash can without a backward glance.

 

# Broadcast Station

At 21:11, Leo walks into the chaotic news department. The buzzing movements fly around him grounds him back to reality. The workplace’s liveliness re-energizes his every atoms. Here at the broadcast station is where Leo can confidently conquer. “Here’s your honey tea, Taekwoon-sshi.” Minah stops him from going to his office. As he is reaching for it, the old friend moves away. “Not so fast. You are eleven minutes late.”  


“What do you want from me then?” he asks his hoobae, though it is not unkind.  


She turns her cheek to him, but the expected kiss never comes. Leo blows her a kiss instead and takes the steamy mug from her. They know each other since the time of university. She can take his rejection any day.

He continues his way to his office to prepare for the midnight broadcast. He has to stop once more when his phone buzzes. “I’m waiting for you in the parking lot,” the screen flashes. Leo’s heart does a somersault. Hakyeon is here. The swan rings burn in his pants. He can wait until I’m done with work. He has so much material he needs to prepare for tonight’s broadcast. He cannot be bothered by him now. The field of journalism and news broadcast demand Leo to be alert of sudden event that might happen minutes before the broadcast goes on air. A glint of determination crosses his eyes. He will survive tonight’s battle.  


“Leo-ssi!” another staff waves him over. He ushers him to a huddled group. The air suddenly shifts around him. The already high-strung work atmosphere becomes suffocating. Pairs of eyes stare at Leo who scans over the latest article on screen. The rings beg to be released from his pockets.  


  
  
  


Leo finds Hakyeon behind the dumpster in the dark. Every step he takes to get closer to Hakyeon, the stakes piles higher, so he halts at a comfortable arm-length distance. It is a safe proximity where Hakyeon cannot touch him nor their conversation will travel far to unwanted ears. Leo shoves his hands into his pants’ pocket--- it is another mistake. His hand wraps around the small jewelry box.

“You were at my house last night,” says Hakyeon.

“Yeah. I was.” Leo mentally checks his expression in place carefully. Hakyeon can always tell if he will lie to him despite of his poker face.

When Leo does not speak more, Hakyeon asks, “Are you done thinking now?”

“I don’t love you anymore.”

Hakyeon bites his lower lips. “Liar.” His calm facade shatters. His arrogant mask finally breaks in front of Leo.

Leo cracks too. It is a slit that Hakyeon can never know.

“I saw the article about us,” Hakyeon says weakly. “Let’s break up.”

Leo’s hand tightens around the box. He thinks that he is well-prepared for the final verdict. He fails to see Hakyeon at the moment. All that is left in the world are just himself and the box of swan rings. He thinks that he can go through the motion when Hakyeon’s words hit him like an uninvited storm. “Let’s break up,” Leo’s response is rehearsed. Was it really Leo who agreed to breaking up? He thought that he will feel relieved when this moment finally comes.

“Things will get better soon.” Hakyeon’s raspy voice brings Leo back to him. “You and I will be fine.” Leo wants to scrape his default courteous smile off his face.

They stand staring at one another’s frozen expression. They go back to the game of pretense. They are also aware of some paparazzi lurking in the dark. Leo grabs Hakyeon’s hand anyway. Hakyeon breaks for the second time when Leo shakes his hand. “Good luck with your career, N.”

  
  
  


If Leo is not a man of words, then he is mute tonight in the news studio. He allows the stylists to have final touch-ups on his jet-black hair and make-up. The incident with N he had an hour ago is slowly receding in his memory. Instead, he focuses on skimming over the first page of his script: some politician’s scandal will be first reported. Somehow, the gay rumour does not reach its claws to Leo yet. Leo is safe. Tonight, like any other night, he will report news to the South Korean households at twelve in the morning. Soon, Leo will become a news anchor at the primetime slot. Hard work, connections, and hidden secrets will eventually get him to the high place. Let N fall out of everyone’s sight. Tonight, Leo still has his life intact. “I don’t love you anymore.”---That’s the biggest lie that Leo can tell. Without lies, Leo cannot live with his maskless face. He always believed that a love as strong as his and N’s will not break apart because people tell them they can’t. _Romeo and Juliet_ is bullshit. Leo never lives life as he is told. He will never die because of love, so he stops loving N… None of that matters now. As long as we are kept apart, you and I will survive, Leo convinces himself.

“Ready. In three...two…” the director calls.

Leo’s pockets are empty without rings.

  
  


It is not until Leo is completely out of sight that N scrambles for his car in a daze. He locks every doors and windows and let out a bottled howl. He lays his head over the steering wheel and allows tears to heal his wound. He cannot think of anything but Leo’s broken poker face and his final words: “Good luck with your career, N.” “N”---he never called him by his stage name after their first meeting when they were strangers. N hiccups. The salty tears slide into his throat which he chokes on pathetically. N - that’s right - I’m N. N was the beloved singer who was the inspiration and strength for his fans Starlights. N will never disgust his audience. N will never have a romantic relationship with another man. N will marry a female singer or an actress and have three kids and everything will be fine. N is Hakyeon. And Hakyeon will never do that.

All is lost. It starts from Ravi and ends with Leo.

And it is all his own fault.

He wipes his face clean with the backs of his palms. Alone in the car with his own thought and self, detach from the Earth, N has nothing more to lose.

He breathes hard through his nostrils as his heart speeds up and the car suddenly compresses him into himself until the metal will completely crushes him. He grips on the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turn to ghost-white. And the veins in his strained body pop. Like his uncontrollable physiological reactions, his memories from the past few weeks fall upon him like dominos: meeting Ravi in the conference room, beating that man at the bar alley, waking up to his death sentence, breaking up with Leo. His memories retrace further back to the carefree days with Ravi back in their hometown Daejeon, and what happened after in Seoul with Hongbin and then Jaehwan and finally Hakyeon became N. At one point, he naively believed that in a muddy field of show business, he could find love too. For a long time, he believed that he could find happy ending in Leo. He taught him a lesson just now. N is alone in his car with only his own troubled thoughts as his companions.

“The higher you climb, the more responsibilities you would have,” he remembers Amelia once told him. “That’s why I like being a scum.” He showed him his nicotine-stained yellow teeth in a lopsided grin. The old man in green long wig leant back into the sofa. “But you’re different than I, son. You’re meant to have the world on your shoulder.” Amelia waves his cigarette in a large arch like a wand, the ashes fell upon N like fairy dust. Did he think that he’s his fairy godmother who will transform N from a lowlife to a royalty commanding the world?

N knows that somewhere along the road looking for his destination, he disappointed Amelia and everyone who loved him. They are his fairy godmothers, but N fails to be the prince.

N shuts his eyes. He is exhausted from being chased by his brief lifetime of memories. He cannot see where this will all end. Where did his home go? Maybe if he crashes his car against the dumpster in front of him, all will end in where he ought to be---being buried in those worthless trash.

  
  
  


# Rooftop

 

Hyuk clenches onto his bruised stomach. He stares up at Ken who is towering over him. Ken raises his foot again and Hyuk flinches away. The blow never comes though. Instead, he yanks at his shirt collar. Ken’s enraged pupils are more damaging than the physical assault. Hyuk's voice trembles, "I-It wasn't me..."

 Ken shook him hard, "Then why did you lie about being at home last night? Who else from _Scandal News_ would sabotage N like that?"

 Hyuk regains his posture upon hearing the accusation. "It's my fault that N beat someone up and then ran away? Did I make him do that?" Hyuk raises his voice, "He got himself in trouble. Not me."

 Ken narrows his eyes. "So you did do it."

 "So what if I did? It doesn't change the fact that N was violent and out of control."

 They stare down at each other for a few suspenseful seconds, holding their breaths for another explosion. Ken shoves him back to the ground. Having his back on his dongsaeng, he walks to the railing of the roof. He hits the metal and bruises his knuckles. In the end, he cannot stop what N or Hyuk planned to do. "I'm so disappointed in both of you," he said to the freezing air. In the end, he can only watch things helplessly crashing down around him like always. Ken retreats back to the building, back to his own shell, back to the time when he needn't to worry about anyone else except himself.

  
  
  


# Press Conference

  
  


“Top Soloist Assaulted Innocent Civilian at a Gay Bar: N Is Coming Out?’” Ken re-reads the eye-catching title dramatically. He sneers. “Fucking trashy.” He throws the _Scandal News_ tabloid down on the table disdainfully.   
  
“What do we do now?” asks Hyuk.   
  
Ken’s hard gaze softens a bit for his dongsaeng. “‘What do we do now?’ We can’t do anything for him.” The shake of his head was full of pity, or even love. But Hyuk understands that they are too insignificant to do anything for the superstar, except fulfilling their role as paparazzis.   
  
All the reporters’ cameras flash blinding white light the second N steps onto the stage before them. Being the rookie that he is, Hyuk feels like he’s the last person in the room to direct his attention on the most controversial public figure in the country. On the other hand, the experienced Ken takes multiple snapshots in a second, taking the best pictures of N wearing a simple black suit over white dress shirt and black pants, his black tie was tucked between the two garments to complete his funeral attire. His hands clasp in front of him submissively. Ken captures his apologetic ninety-degree bow with his camera.   
  
Hyuk is ashamed too, so he hides behind his camera. His index finger controls the shutter half-heartedly.   
  
The sound of cameras do not cease even after N took a seat at the long table. The company’s representative and his manager situate on his either sides, acting like bodyguards who will fend off any verbal attack from the reporters on a bloody battlefield.   
  
“Good morning, I’m Park Hyun Tae. I will host N’s conference today,” the guy on N’s left introduces himself formally. “Before N will answer any question, he will give you an explanation for his regretful action this past Thursday night.”   
  
More metallic clicking of the shutters and unbroken concentration rise into the crescendo. It gives Hyuk a headache.   
  
N starts off not with words, but with another deep bow. His forehead nearly hits the table. “I  sincerely apologize for my assault against Mr. Oh. I was irresponsible to get drunk, hit somebody and then ran away. I am most sorry to my fans who have been supporting me.” His eyes shimmer. If N’s apology sounded like a rehearsed actor before, a hint of genuinity breaks through now. “I am a disappointment and I am ashamed to even show my face to them, but my fans and the public deserve the truth behind my immoral behaviour.” He gets up and bows again.   
  
A million hands shoot through the thick air like rocket launchers aiming at the once-respected idol. “N. N. N.” The floor is gathered with hyenas trying to get a piece of him. Only Hyuk and Ken had their hands still on their cameras and laptops. That’s the least they can do for N.   
  
“Are you a homosexual, N-ssi? You were at a gay bar.” The reporter who shouts hit bulls-eye.   
  
“No. I’m not.” N’s sorrowful look is unchanging.   
  
Murmurs and talkings erupt at once. Ken and Hyuk can only gawk at each other. What the Hell is he saying now?   
  
“Please be quiet,” says Hyun Tae, raising his voice at the microphone. “If you don’t want to miss the details of the truth.”   
  
Again with the truth. Hyuk feels that he’s drifting farther away from the actual truth.

 

Nonetheless, like the obedient kindergarteners, everyone pays attention to the person who promises them candies.  
  
Hyuk is about to throw up.   
  
N leans towards his mic. “As Mr. Oh told the press this early morning, he was a passerby of the suspected bar, not a customer, so was I. As the video accuses me of assault shows, we were having an argument outside the bar. I am sorry for causing such a huge misunderstanding and grief.”   
  
Ken shakes his head slightly. Hyuk can guess that he is extremely disappointed with N.   
  
“What about your boyfriend?” Another foot soldier takes a stab. “Yesterday, Dispatch revealed a picture of you and your boyfriend’s date in a car.”   
  
The minimal smile on N’s lips sends chills all over Hyuk’s body. “There’s a third person in the backseat. We were carpooling together after a party.”   
  
“The proof shot of that will be released after the conference,” adds Hyun Tae.   
  
Hyuk’s head begins to spin. He holds onto Ken’s arm for support. Ken looks back at him. The older’s eyes are full of concern for his dongsaeng. How can Ken stay calm watching N putting on an one-man show? He appears barely unfazed.   
  
The reporters fire more questions. N and his team skillfully fight off their suspicions without being obviously wrong. They are very humble with their victory. As time drags on, N becomes more and more of a victim of Fate. It was merely an unfortunate incidence. The other man attacked first. N barely had any fault in it. The fact that the man was seriously injured by N is covered up by layers of sweet talking and remorse. Hyuk’s body temperature drops further and further. He doesn’t know who to be more scared of: the public who is set to tear N down or N who is lying through his mournful mask.   
  
“Any more questions?” asks Hyun Tae after twenty minutes of the Q&A session. Even that question was calculated to the dot; he throws that question out because he expects no more questions. After this one last opportunity, N will be set free.   
  
Hyuk’s heart is about to burst through his chest.   
  
“ _Scandal News?_ ” Hyun Tae acknowledges the raised hand. His lips draw a taut line, evidently displeased that his plan is disrupted.   
  
Unlike during other questions, all eyes and ears are on the interrogator instead of the interrogated. Hyuk gulps nervously. He can hear his colleagues’ condemning thoughts towards him and Ken: so you guys are the ones who are dirtier than dirt? You are the moral-less paparazzi who went so far to expose a celebrity’s sexual orientation for your own profit? Go to Hell.   
  
“N-ssi…” Hyuk’s voice trembles. He’s scared that N can’t hear him, but at the same time, he is more fearful of his hard gaze upon him. They are eyes full of hatred. “I am sorry.” Copying N, Hyuk too bows in ninety-degree in his direction. Ken follows suit. After a million eon passes, Hyuk finally looks up at N. His glare is still on him, though his facial expression is as passive as ever.   
  
Hyuk’s knees go weak and he falls back on his chair.

 

At this moment, Hyuk is confused who was more despicable. N who hit someone and lied about it. Or himself who exposed the truth and hurt him. Hyuk shuts his eyes. He can’t do the math anymore.  
  
Ignoring Hyuk, Hyun Tae swiftly takes over the situation, pretending that his apology never exists: “If there is no more questions, we have one more thing to announce.”   
  
The cameras makes another refrain to the horror film that Hyuk is watching.   
  
“Mr. Oh withdrew his charge against N this morning. Mr. Oh and N have already came to a peaceful term. They are currently reflecting on their mistakes.” He throws a glance at N.   
  
Everyone's attention turns to N now. “To reflect on my mistake that’s borne out of my impulsiveness and drinking problem, I will begin my mandatory military service starting next week. After two years of serving our country, I promise to return as a disciplined and respectable citizen.”   
  
Furious tapping of keyboard echos the latest breaking news at once. The headline has already been decided in a split of a second: “The Assault Case Is Dropped: Jellyfish’s Soloist N Will Serve the Army To Repent His Sin.”   
  
Hyuk is angry. If N really wants to repent his sin, he should go to jail where he deserves to be.

 

Ken’s laugh is a dry one. “As expected of N, he can always get away from doomsday. He will be the last man standing in an apocalypse.” His frowns are slight. Hyuk cannot tell if he is happy for him or angry with him. Maybe a little bit of both. Or he’s already stopped to have any feelings towards that man.  
  
N leaves his seat. He bows to all sides for one last time. He is not meeting anyone’s eyes but Hyuk’s.   
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you're in so much trouble Hyuk! Tell me if this is heading to dramaland or a hot mess or both. ;) What do you think of N's action? Is he all angelic like as we all think...hmm... 
> 
> Bookmark, subscribe, and kudos if you enjoy it so far. Tell me what you think too. Comments are also valuable.
> 
> Have a wonderful 2017.
> 
> Your dreamer,
> 
> Suzy


	3. Shoot the Star

**Hyuk’s**

 

“Hey, hyung. Can you please come over?”

 When Hyuk pulls out his cookie box from beneath his bed, Ken wishes to remain sober. The beer he bought with his bonus pay were sitting on the carpeted floor, untouched. Ken does not miss the breath that Hyuk secretly takes when his hand brushes over the metal lid. Ken is dying to know what is kept inside the box and what with the solemn ceremony? He doesn't want to rush him, afraid that Hyuk will change his mind. The task seems to be immensely difficult for his dongsaeng. One small wrong move around him, Hyuk will take the chance to bolt like an antelope in the wild being pursued.

 A clink resonates. It opens. Ken holds his breath. "What the...?" Not in a century would Ken expect a box of items endorsed by N’s handsome face will be unearthed from under Han Sanghyuk's bed. Hyuk swaps his hand away when Ken is reaching for an album, "Careful. It's signed," he says in screeches.

 Ken chuckles. "Chill. I didn't touch it yet. When did you have all these?"

 "Since high school.” Hyuk bows his head. He doesn't want to meet the surprise in his eyes.

 Ken strokes one of the photos from the earlier days when N just debuted. His straight jet-black bang had been untrimmed, covering his forehead entirely. His smile is so wide that his eyes disappear behind the bang. He looks just the way Ken remembers him from a long time ago. Not this kind of smile though. He does not recall his smile being as authentic as the deep-sea pearls. It is the kind of smile you achieve in life when you actually enjoy living. N is surely not smiling right now. Ken gazes at the ceiling, keeping the tears at bay.

 "If you're really his fan, why did you try to ruin him?" Ken looks back at Hyuk once his emotions are under control.

 Hyuk keeps his eyes on the smiling N. "I always thought that N was one of the reasons why I ended up in journalism.” Instead of a straight-forward answer, Hyuk starts from the beginning: “I don't think I could have graduated high school without N being there for me. I was pretty smart but I didn't care for studying at all. But I studied really hard just so I can meet him one day. I always wanted to do something that will get me close to the entertainment industry.

 “But hyung, we all grew up at one point. I didn't think that being a talk-show host will suit me. Social justice was my thing and look at where I ended up. I was so stubborn and insisted that I was right all the time and my boss finally had enough of me---it was awhile back since I got thrown out of _Seoul National._ And I'm still at the bottom. I was getting desperate to get back on my feet.” Hyuk runs the back of his hand over his misty eyes. “I forgot why and how I ended up being a paparazzi. I forgot where I've came from. I forgot my promise to N." Hyuk pops open a bottle and drinks and gulps until he can forget about what went wrong during the past few years.

 Tonight, it is Hyuk who slumps against Ken's lap in a daze. Ken can only stroke his hair until he will feel better at the next morning.  

 "Jaehwan hyung," Hyuk slurs, "why did the boss give us a bonus?"

 "Because SM is pleased with our Kyusica news. _Scandal News_ and SM signed a contract for exclusive scandals. Go figure."

 Hyuk hitches a sigh, "I'll never understand how entertainment industry works."

 Ken doesn’t think that he can fully understand it either even though he had years of experiences working close to the industry ahead of Hyuk. His mind drifts off to N again. He will never understand N’s world from living at the margin. Did Ken end up becoming a paparazzi because of N? Ken shakes his head. Unlike Hyuk's clear-cut vision, Ken ended up here because life pushed him along on this path. He has already accepted what fate has in store for him when he took every opportunity that has presented to him. But he also learned something from doing something that he does not love. He learned how to survive fate without altering it. He always talks and smiles at the right time, at the right person. Without something precious inside of him, he can only learn to follow life’s lead. Ken is the master of preservation.

 Ken traces Hyuk's jaw with his fingertips. He is a beautiful young man that is full of passion; he burns his fingers. Hyuk catches his hand abruptly, taking Ken by surprise. He places Ken’s hand over his burning cheek. "Jaehwan hyung," Hyuk asks sleepily, "why didn't you break my arm when I touch you like this?"

 Ken’s heart hits his ribcage. It's true that he didn't flinch away from his warm skin. His laugh is humourless. "Because I love you, Han Sanghyuk. You can't break my trust anymore, 'Kay? I will break your arm if you cause anyone’s trouble."

 Hyuk lets go of Ken. He turns to face him properly, looking more than sober. "Jaehwan hyung, I have a confession to make."

 Ken’s cheeks grow hot. He nods hesitantly, telling him to go on. He isn't sure if he is ready to listen though.

 Hyuk, the performer on the tightrope, takes a deep breath. "It wasn't me who sent N’s video to the boss, but I told him about N and his boyfriend. It happened that time when you caught me outside of his office... He must've told someone else to follow N..." Tears are freely flowing onto his face now. “So it was me all along. If I didn't tell him, N would still be smiling..."

Ken shakily takes his wet cheeks in his palms. His thumb follows his teardrops, dabbing them dry. "You don't know if that's really you. The boss probably knew about N way before you did.”

“You’d never know if that’s true,” Hyuk protests.

“You’d never know what would have happened either, so shush.”

Ken should be crossed with Hyuk's mistake, but how can he hold a grudge against him when Hyuk is sobbing over his unwise decision? He is about to tell Hyuk again that when celebrities get into troubles after they exposed their dirty secrets, it's not their fault. However, he keeps his lips sealed this time. It's not true that their actions had no impact on them. In the real world, any person's choice is bound to affect another person, whether you wished for it to happen or not; you’d never know. "Thank you, Hyuk. For being honest with yourself."

 Hyuk sniffs. “Jaehwan hyung, is N going to be okay?"

 "Of course," his voice cracks. "He got through sticky stuff all the time. This time won't be any different."

 As soon as he uttered those words, Ken starts to believe them too. Didn’t he tell N that he is a variable? In mathematic, “n” can be any number it wants to be to solve the most challenging equations. In life, N can be anything he wants to solve the trickiest problem.

 

 

**Military**

 

January 7, 2014

 Dear Hakyeon,

 How did your first month of training go? Did you meet someone that will share punishment with you like I would? FYI, my best record is a thousand push-ups. You can’t beat that, can you?

 I’m at Daejeon right now. I was walking on that highway. Do you know which one I’m talking about? We took that route from a crazy party back to our homes----way past our bedtime.

 You were always the drunk philosopher. Remember what you asked me? You asked me if I knew where I was going. I told you we were going home. I knew you weren’t asking for the literal answer; I was dodging your Big Question. I was always the asshole, am I right? But I will tell you the answer after you are discharged. I want to be honest with you so we can make the greatest masterpiece together on the siverscreen. I will play nice this time.

 I miss you.

 Love,

 Wonshik

 

N folds the letter in halves. The paper is rigid in his hand like Ravi’s last words to him.

 So what if N remembers that highway? He is still stuck in this stupid place. He shouldn’t be here in the army. Not yet. He has a lot of unmet goal, like making the next smash hit that will finally stun everyone and make his fans standing proud, In here, his dream is long dead and gone. One month of not making music from dawn to dusk is enough to numb his emotions he has towards anything, including Ravi. He will never do Ravi’s movie. His indifference towards their past will only sabotage his project.

 “Your boyfriend wrote to you?” one of his comrades asks while he tries to snatch the letter away. N sneers at him; his opponent is a dwarf that doesn’t know his shortcoming.

 “Fuck off,” says N under his breath, low enough so their supervisor can’t hear him.

 His comrade flips him a bird.

 N walks off; he is not suppose to feel anything other than regret.

  
  
All N has to do at five each morning are push-ups, squats, burpees for a hundred-thousands times. Or at least, it feels like that to him. Compare to the hours of training he did to perfect his dancing, singing and dieting, military drills are just stretches. N runs his hand over the long jagged rifle. Every new equipment he touches brings him back to his first day in the recording studio. His voice cracked as he stuttered out a few off-key notes. “One more time, please,” he said and pleaded. N fires more shots at the cardboard human-shape target---he punches holes in the margin around the heart. The rifle feels lighter than his microphone. He feels less responsible holding a killing machine than perform in front of the camera. N takes another shot, the bullet penetrates straight to the heart.

 The cardboard person is as dead as N.

  
  


April 17, 2014

 Dear Hakyeon,

 How are you? I'm doing okay, except my investor is a douche. He threatens to pull out of my production. Don’t worry, I'll always figure out something to save it.

 I went back to our old middle school. Remember our homeroom teacher Mr. Park? He stopped teaching and owns a fishing boat now. Remember that hallway next to the art room? That “WS+HY” is still on the foot of the wall. Remember how we hated our first smoke? The cigarette stains crossed out our initials. It's funny how soon our names got erased. I looked at the scorched words long and hard and I felt like a different person. I'm still the same old me but then I'm not, because you weren't there to see me burn our names off the wall. It's like I made a pact with you. I promised I will go back here again to rewrite my name, but not today. I don't deserve to have “Ravi” on the wall yet.

 Love,

 Wonshik

 

N hugs the letter to his chest. His comrades are snoring away in their dreams while tossing and turning on the hard mattress. If N knows Ravi, he would tell him that he already deserves everything. Fuck that investor. He worked as hard on his dream as N, so things should turn out good for him. Nonetheless, N didn’t think that for himself. N never thought that he deserved anything good. Good things naturally came to him after he pulled through the struggles. He thought that it was a natural process. Now life teaches him that he deserves what he hits him unexpectedly, not what he expects from his arduous effort.

 But N can’t think of Ravi for too long; the other man always shows up in his thoughts. N remembers the real estate magazines that stacked high beneath his coffee table. Leo and he circled all the nice houses on the surrounding islands with a red felt pen. They ooh-ed and ahh-ed over all those generic-looking white beach houses that were selling at just under a million dollars. Leo hated water though. They would never own a boat, though N figured Leo would like a sleek-looking yacht so he could show off to all his important friends. What about me? N asked him. Are they going to know me? Leo would kiss him and that shut him up.

 N wipes his eyes as he realizes he used to have good things in his life.

 

  
  
“You fag.” An iron grip clamps around N’s neck. It tightens around his breathing tube the more he struggles against the bigger guy. His mouth hangs open slightly. The water beads that cling on the rough gray wall in the shower stall wet his naked backside. “You were staring at my dick.” The taller guy slams him against the wall again.

 "Quit it. This is so gay,” one soldier speaks up under the shower head. The running water drowns out his words.

 The others scrub and rinse. They let the water to have a louder conversation than the fight in the corner.

 When the guy releases his throat, N’s knees bend forward. He chokes out the rest of the water in nostrils and sucks in the air like a vacuum. He would thank whoever step in but he is coughing.

 “I said ‘quit it.’” Another guy holds the taller guy by the arm. “You don’t want to leave any visible mark.”

 He pushes N’s head back onto the wall and yanks the nearest running shower head into N’s face. N coughs out the cold water and gasps for air at the same time. Thousands thorns prick his chest, stabbing him to death. He squeezes his eyes tight against the water. He shuts off his breathing as he sinks faster. Water rushing down his tubes and he coughs right back out. Millions of hands hold him down on the cold hard floor, burying him alive. His world turns black as he loses air. N sees the ending credit rolling on the black screen.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hang in there, N! I love you. <3 Will N survive? N will be out of the army eventually but the q's is----is he going to dead or alive? /super dramatic pause/
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you think so far. Is the pace too slow or too fast? I feel like I'm just talking to myself.
> 
> Subscribe and kudo if you like the story thus far. Thank you for following the story. <3
> 
> Your dreamer,
> 
> Suzy


	4. Gladiolus On Snow

**Military**

 

N sees red as he slowly welcomes sight to his glossy eyes. As the white surrounding comes into focus, he spots the blood-red gladiolus perching on the table in front of him. He sits up on the squeaky bed and sucks in a sharp breath of antiseptic. He moves his arm and tugs the IV tube towards him. The equipment clinks, but no one walks in to check on the patient. He is already admitted to the hospital from fainting in the military training after only three months. Images of wounded soldiers pass in front of his eyes, their lives are melting faster than candles. Pressure bubbles in his chest and he wants to scream when the tears do not surge forth. He gulps in a deep breath. I have gone through worse. The scandal was the worst thing that he had gone through when the him and the world turn their backs on one another. In fact, he is still suffering through the consequences.

 The only other hard time that he could think of was his days of training to be a singer. He might be a gifted dancer, but singing had been foreign to him. There was a song called _Higher Than Me_ that used to trip him over with notes sitting on the high bar. That one note that he could never reach taunted him on the recording room’s ceiling. Hongbin stomped on his foot once so he could scream out that note. N retaliated by punching his arm. N breaks out laughing and tears finally spill over.

 Kicking off the scratchy blanket, N crawls towards those flowers and takes them out of the vase. He hugs them close to his chest. He is drifting to a conscious dream.

 The dream comes like a real life inviting him back to a certain time where things were simpler. N’s biggest worry was debuting as a singer, dancing on the stage for a million of people that would hear him at one point of their life. Before his dream would come true, N sucked in many deep breaths and gritted his teeth before he spun another routine in the sparse playground. Then he trudged home after a gruesome day running in circles, training for a better life. At the end of the day, N would be back to his hopeless artist.

 N’s dream drifts deeper into his lost memories when he was living with Hongbin, a man without dreams. On top of a few awkward bathroom's run-ins, Hongbin and Hakyeon got by the days like dog and cat.

 In the long nights, Hakyeon was the only one wide awake. He lied facing Hongbin's bed, away from the ghosts of the paintings. Their still shadows were effective enough for his heart to pick up speed. The rustling on the mattress was also not helping his hyperactive nervous system.

“Go to sleep,” Hongbin’s alert voice sliced through the eerie air. “No one wants a fat panda for an idol.”

 “I’m not fat,” N said.

 “Your eye bags are enough to scare the ghosts away, so go to sleep.”

 Some more rustlings.

 “Why aren’t you sleeping?” N asked. “Something’s bothering you too?”

 “You are bothering me.”

 “What did I ever do to you?” N had not intended to sound more hurt than he actually was. “I just bit you that one time. Couldn’t you take a tiny bite?” Great. Being a whiny baby could be another reason why N should be a hobo.

 The night was falling asleep. N thought that Hongbin was sleeping too.

 “Why don’t you get a real job already?” Hongbin’s voice caused N to jump out of his skin. “You’re still young. You can start over and live a good life and be with your family. Don’t you miss them? Things don’t have to be hard for you anymore. No more morning calls. No more injuries. No more exhaustion. No more restrictions. No more uncertainties. No more rejections.”

 “No more adventure. No more hope. No more life.” N mimicked rather mockingly. He thought he was a fucking poet?

 More rustling. N felt Hongbin’s breath in his neck. He shivered. Hongbin had leant over the edge of his bed and stoop as low as N who was lying on the floor. It seemed like any hint of sleep had left them. “This isn’t ‘life’ to you? Life is so much easier after leaving the trainee life behind,” he said into his ears. “You can finally rest. You can go on a vacation. You can do whatever you want. No one can tell you otherwise. You’re so stupid, going after something impossible to have.”

 N did not flinch in front of Hongbin’s passionate speech. He was not to give into his tyranny. He stared squarely back. Their faces were an inch apart in the veiled darkness. “What about you? Are you free? Are you happy?"

 "You're being selfish. Why would you want your family to see you suffer in exchange for what you want?"

 "My family isn't suffering because of my dream, neither am I."

 N heard a sharp intake of breath. "You don't know that," Hongbin said.

 "Are you happy?" N asked. “I doubt that you’re happy in your tiny cubicle waiting for six o’clock everyday.”

 “This is how life supposed to be. Dancing is not a career. It’s just a hobby - a small part of the bigger picture. Why can’t you see that?”

 “Your life is so boring. I’m dying here.”

 "I’m dying too from watching you.”

 Hongbin withdrew into his bed. Watching N made him die? What was that suppose to mean?

 N’s thoughts were swimming under the surface. He recalled his normal day living here. Every morning he would wake up to Hongbin's voice. His voice was husky whenever he yelled at him. N would come back home after a long day of part-time works to the warm steamed rice and the scent of lemon. N felt like crying and laughing as he munched on the delicious food that Hongbin had prepared for him. The meals could usually feed a family of four. Hongbin would then pester him some more for coming home late. N would fight back and laugh at his insults. He would try to do the dishes afterwards. Hongbin would tell him to scram off or else he would break his arms before he could kill his plates. N appreciated the comfort that Hongbin provided him in his small apartment. N asked himself if he would ever miss Hongbin’s glare or his concern for him when he eventually left this place.

That was the topic that N and Hongbin skirted around. Hongbin would ask him when he would leave, but N knew that he didn’t mean to kick him out. N would give him a shrug, because N wasn’t sure when or if he really wanted to leave. Hongbin was right. He was getting comfortable with the dull rhythm called “normal life”.

N rose from the floor. His left arm hung over Hongbin’s bed. Hongbin’s wavy feathery hair was there for him to stroke. He gulped at the sight of his broad warm back. He grabbed a handful of his lush hair and pulled hard.

Hongbin flipped and yelped in pain. He slapped at any parts of N he could grab hold of. “Are you crazy?”

N curled up into a ball to protect his biggest asset from Hongbin’s angry fists (he had an ambition of being the visual of a boy group after all.) N flung his arms around blindly to evade his fierce attack, which only made Hongbin madder. Before they were aware of what’s happening, they were engaged in a fist fight in the middle of the night. Hongbin abandoned the soft bed for a better punch. N buried his head in Hongbin stomach to avoid his fury kung fu. He grabbed onto his back and whined, “Please. Let’s fight tomorrow. You won.”

Hongbin’s last slap on his back stung, “Yah. Aren’t you letting go of me?”

N’s breathing was slow and steady. His tired breathing soon became snores. His skinny arms still rested around Hongbin. Hongbin draped his right arm over N. He tapped N’s relaxed back following the rhythm of his ribcage.

There were no howling nor hissing disturbing N’s sleep that night.

  
  
  
  
  
  


N’s conscience floats to the surface; he needs to breathe. Red blooms on his retina. The petals of the gladiolus are wrinkled against his white slip. The edge of the flower are browning; the fragrance lingers. N sighs in relief; it is still alive. He shuts his eyes. He doesn’t fall asleep this time. He vaguely remembers what happened in one of those nights when he failed to sleep in Hongbin’s haunted house.

The dusty white powder marked the death scene in the middle of Hongbin’s apartment. He was glaring at N like any other mornings. However, today N was wavering under his accusation. He smelled blood in the air. N would be the next victim.

“Is this your revenge?” Hongbin asked. “Didn’t you ruin enough of my life already?”

N’s gaze fell upon on the remnants of the head. The marble nose, lips, eyes were detached and shattered. He was scared of Hongbin’s tears so his eyes never left the corpse.

“Why do you care anyway?” N said. “You were the one who broke it.”

“What did you just say?” Hongbin said. His face turned beet red. N suddenly feared that he would have a heart attack and died with the statue.

N took a calming breath. “You threw it at the ground last night. You broke it.”

Hongbin grabbed his collar. “I didn’t. Stop lying.” N could see Hongbin's veins expanded under his skin at a close distance.

N fumbled for his phone in his pant pocket. He tapped on the video he had filmed last night. “See? This is you. This is the sculpture. This is your hands. Bang. You broke it.”

Hongbin slowly released his captive. He clutched on the side of his head. Clearly, he did not remember waking up last night. He did not remember working on the sculpture. He did not remember smashing his hard work into pieces.

“I’m not scared of your ‘haunted’ house anymore. The weird sound was just you making sculptures. Why did you break it?”

Seeing Hongbin slumped onto the ground stirred something inside of N. The defeated figure resembled someone he once knew. Hongbin acted as if he had unknowingly murdered his own child. He had forgotten or neglected his child, but in the end, his love for it was not a lie. N risked his life picking up one of the stone pieces. He wrapped Hongbin’s hand around it. “You love being an artist as much as I love the stage. Don’t let a piece of you go.”

Hongbin ran his thumb over the jagged lines and the weight of the small piece. It pierced through his skin. Art intruded his normal life. Unlike other people, Hongbin’s hands were always stained with colourful oil paint or caked with hard mud. His hands were sucked dry by various chemicals. His hands were different from N’s hands.

Hongbin let go of that broken piece. The sound of it crashing to the floor was emphasized in the still room.

“I have loan sharks going after me. I can’t put it back together.”

N straightened his back, making Hongbin appeared very small hunching on the ground. N faced one of his unfinished paintings. He was suddenly overcome with an unfair rage. Before he knew it, N had already crashed his foot through the nearest canvas. He grabbed a cup of hot tea off the table and dumped it on another painting. He snatched a handful of Hongbin’s sketches and ripped them into tears. The room was without Hongbin’s fury. It was filled with his hushed tears.

N dragged his packed suitcase under Hongbin’s bed. He would quit being stuck in this endless loop with Hongbin. N did not want to be broken like he and lived for nothing. Leaving would be the last generous favour he could do for himself and the ex-artist.

Gladiolus, the flowers that bloom in the coldest season. The image of those flowers mix with Hongbin’s marble sculpture looks like blood-tainted snow---one day N will shatter like Hongbin’s sculpture and cut himself. Fucking idiot, I let you go so you can dance. Why are you lying around? he can hear Hongbin say.

  
  


Never let a piece of you go.

Never. Never. Never let me go.

  
  


When no one picks up the phone the first time, N should have known better than call for the second time.

“Hi,” says N.

The longest three seconds of his life suspends in the mid air between the wire. “Hi,” Leo replies.

Both of his hands tremble as he cradles the black phone. N tugs the speaker closer to his face than the cord allows him. He curls up in the cubicle within the two dividers that separate desperate voices and hearts of the soldiers. At times like this, they long for their homes. The changed men staying away will always expect that their loved ones will remain stationary like a familiar place that they can always go back to. Sometimes, they forget that their families, friends, lovers are people like them. Even places are dynamic, constantly changing, let alone people. Like the other soldiers, N hopes for the impossible.

“I lo-” says N.

“Don’t, N.” Leo cuts him short. “I don’t want to hear what comes after it.”

The soldiers might anticipate that people stay the same like time is frozen in the army, but really, only war wounds were the things that were certain. The old pain in N’s chest is suddenly as fresh as new. He threw his shield down in the face of his enemy and get shot in the chest. He watches himself bleed.

“Hey, I can’t really talk right now.” Leo’s voice is smooth and gentle like he is comforting a child who comes last in a race. Some bedsheet rustles in the background. Leo groans. The connection dies. The beeps resemble N’s flat heartbeat in the monitor. Nothing can revive it again.

N opens his palm. The dried petals of blue and yellow irises crumble a little. Irises are Hongbin’s favourite flowers. They are colorful like the paint he uses. Before N left, he crashed his foot through his unfinished painting of irises. Those paintings and irises representing his passion were all Hongbin had. These dried petals are all N has too. He asked Hongbin why he loved these flowers. He told N that irises encompass all wonderful things in the world---faith, hope, and passion. N had a whole world in his hand once, but carelessly, he stomped on it and let it die. He thought of Leo and his mindless whispers of “I love you”. It wilted too in his hands. He was a terrible gardener. N bundles into a ball on the floor. Tears are spinning behind his eyes but he reins them in. N rubs the petals with his thumb and forefinger. At least he still has the irises in his hands. If roses are dead, then he doesn’t need Leo anymore. If N sees Hongbin next time, he will ask him for irises’ seeds. He will watch his passion grow in the pot and dab his tears with it. His iris will outlive the rose. He doesn’t care if Leo will know. He’s already gone.

  
  
  
  
  


May 14, 2014

Dear Hakyeon,

Do you remember our first time trying to skip our pre-calc class? We got caught at the gate as soon as the bell rang. We ended up doing hop-squats around the soccer field for fifty-laps. No ice cream for us. It was June. The sun beat our backs and we sweat like Olympic swimmers. “I’m going to die, Hakyeon-ah”, I told you. I was the first one to lie on the crispy dry grass after a lap. You stopped and looked back at me. You encircled your fingers around my thick wrist and pulled me up. I hauled you down to me instead. The smell of your mold gym shirt wafted towards me and we stayed lying together for a few seconds before you took a spot besides me. “Mr. Park is going to see us slacking off,” you said. “He’ll make us run a hundred laps.”

“We’ll run away,” I said. We saw each other then. We broke into toothy smiles. We heard footsteps and our teacher’s yelling. You picked me up off the ground and you ran around the field for one-hundred laps without tripping over your feet. We chortled as if a giant purple bunny chased us around. We laughed louder when we saw our teacher’s fat belly jiggled and his cheeks on fire. I wondered why he scampered after us and pulled his loose beige pants for all those years. Now I wonder why he ceased running after his students and decided to look after his fishing boat.

I know why I am still running after you.

Do you want to know me, Hakyeon?

We will go find him and ask.

Love,

Wonshik

  


N folds the letter in halves and shoves it back in the envelope. He gets out of the restroom stall and stalks back to his dorm room without meeting eyes with anyone. Once he returns to his bed, he locks the letter up along with all the other letters he received from his family, a few fans, a truckload of haters, Sungjae, and Wonshik. He lies flat on the hard cement block that serves as his bed. He imagines that he is on dry grass instead. It is the middle of May, so the room is stuffy enough for his pretend game. He shuts his eyes to search for the particular episode that Wonshik talked about, like he always did after reading some of his recent letters. He remembers the balding homeroom teacher through an unfocused lens. He recalls standing outside of the classroom because they yelled random things during classes out of boredom. They played rock-paper-scissor to pass time in the hallways. He remembers the smirk on Wonshik every time he won. He remembers chasing all the kids out of the playground so they could complain about Sungjae being an asshole. He remembers they sucked up to Sungjae because his dad was on the school board. He remembers their napping spot in the library’s basement. He remembers many more of Wonshik other than the hop-squats and cutting pre-calc class. N’s expression relaxes into a smile.

Ravi’s letter is still in his hand, slightly wrinkled, as if nothing was with N in the long cold night except for that piece of paper or memory. He thought he had Leo in his grip and music by his side, they both slipped away unnoticed. And it’s all his fault. The young Wonshik creeps up on him, catching up on his present. Wonshik and Hakyeon dance in his mind. Hakyeon’s dancing was always close to flawless. Even as an amateur, Hakyeon had learned to embrace the beat flowing into his veins. He had lifted an arm skyward, temptatively at first, then his dandy legs followed suit. His torso guided his hips and the rest followed. He bent his entire being towards the left, backward, right, and swiveled back up, like the strings of poplar tree sway gracefully on windy days. His twirl was more precise than a seamstress. His body tilted but Hakyeon was the master in complete control. There was no more audience. It was only Hakyeon in the universe. He was lost.

Wonshik lost. In oppose to Hakyeon’s natural grace, his steps were loud and demanding. His thrown arms were raw and powerful. His legs kicking under his upper body were bouncing with youth. There was zero pretense in the way he mobilized his limbs. He was indeed a young warrior fighting against gravity; fighting against air; fighting against Hakyeon. He was immersed in the audience as much as he was aware of his extravagant motions. Wonshik finished his break dance routine basking in enthusiastic cheer, but he lost, regardless of the crowd’s positive reaction. In his mind, Hakyeon was always the winner. “Good job, Wonshik,” Hakyeon touched his arm, congratulating his victory. Wonshik flung him away.

The young Wonshik has been haunting his dream lately, in the longest hours where nights never end in the barracks. His carefree smile and his untucked school uniform were signs that everything was alright. “I’d married you if no girls want you in ten years,” Wonshik told Hakyeon. The love letter rejected by some girl was immediately forgotten. They were both lambs. His words should be taken lightly as a joke. But for some reason, something warm bloomed in his chest instantly. Hakyeon believed him.

They were young, competitive, but nonetheless happy. They were rivals. They were friends. Wonshik was all he had.

“Yes, I’d like to know you, Wonshik,” N whispers.

He has no idea how he would go back to the care-free day.

  
  
  


He comes up to N’s bedside and slaps the beige parcel out of N’s hand. N balls up his fists. “Back off.”

“You’re going to hit me here?” The taller guy points at his own flat nose. “Or here?” he thrusts his hip forward. The corner of his mouth hangs open.

N bares his teeth and pulls back his right fist. He watches the other guy flinches. He expects blood to graze his knuckles but instead there are a pair of hands on his shoulders. N lowers his weapon that will combust and backfire. “Stop being immature.” It is the voice belong to the squad leader. “This is the army, not a fucking teen drama.”

The other guy glares at the leader before stalking off to his bed. N is about to thank him, but he beats him to it. “You dropped this.” He shows him a small white cardboard with some handwriting on it: You are stronger than your enemies.

“Cha Hakyeon,” N’s heart drops upon hearing his real name instead of a series of number, “we are a team, not enemies. You need to remember that when we are fighting a battle.”

N salutes him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Goodbye, Neo. Here's the two men's paths diverge. :/ Oh well~ Please comment and tell me what you understand so far or confused about, like or dislike, 'cause I'm ridin' in the dark rn. And I will upload more frequent and see if it's going to be better. 
> 
> And please sub, bookmark, and/or leave a kudo if you enjoy the story :)
> 
> Your dreamer,
> 
> suzyelf


	5. The Portrait of a Soulmate

**Bar**

 

When Leo’s senior asked him out for a drink, he could not refuse her invitation.

The waiter lays two shot glasses amidst Leo and Elly. They each pick one up and drain the cups clean. The hard liquor burns his inside. For a second, he forgets why he’s here. He perched on the wide black leather seat in the shadowed lighting that indicates that this is a place for the refined practice of relaxation and sophistication. Leo is so used to this kind of environment that he barely awares that someone else less privileged might find this place a prison.

Leo drinks another shot.

Elly doesn't reach for the second. She brushes her long bang that is as black as crow away from her eyes that are drawn like the Sphinx's. “You’re getting drunk tonight? You are so not Leo.”

Leo nods. “Taekwoon is the one who’s going to pass out.”

Elly’s eyes light up. Leo has opened up a small crack about who he is underneath by referring to his birthname. Suddenly, they are comrades. “Something’s wrong, but you don't want to tell me.” She leans closer, as if expecting her guess was wrong.

Leo gurgles a laugh. “You are smart enough to guess what’s wrong.”

It is an open invitation that Elly will not pass. “It got something to do with N.” She states matter-of-fact.

Another shot enters his system. “I feel sorry for him.”

“Very unlike you to be sentimental.”

Leo can only stare back at her dumbly. He was expecting consulting words from a mother of two young children, not his senior Elly fighting off enemies at the broadcast station. As the saying go, a mother lioness had more to lose, so she was fierce.

“It looks like N moved on anyway. Isn’t he in the military right now? Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” She took a long sip, taking her time to gauge Leo to answer the question correctly on his own.

Leo leans in nearer until his knees bump into the hardwood table. He sort of suspect that Elly’s next words will not remind him that N was his lover and that he desperately needed N. She will have a fresh insight, a new side that Leo has never thought of.

“You don’t want to end up like N.”

Leo’s short, staccato laugh sounds like wind chime. “You can read minds.” He hates himself for not being able to deny the truth. At this moment, he cannot be the noble man that he is suppose to be. Leo is suppose to be better than a petty sore loser. It was uncharacteristic of him to be daunted by a scandal that can potentially ruin his career. He is suppose to be the equal of N who bears the consequence of his rash action and survives the harsh life of being in an army. He is suppose to hold his head up under water like N, struggling to breathe.

But Leo doesn’t want to be like N.

“You don’t have to be like him.” Elly’s voice that is like a lullaby continues to sing him a song of fantasy. “Do you know Park Sojin, the daughter of Park Hyun Won? You should know him---he’s on the board of directors.”

The twinkle in her eyes give away the entirety of her proposal. “You want me to seduce her? I’m gay.”

Elly and Leo laugh at the funniest joke of the night. “It’s not so funny if someone else got the benefits. Mr. Park is looking for a son-in-law and I think you have what it takes to make her yours.”

“This is ridiculous.” Leo throws another shot in his dry mouth. His world spins in illusion and non-reasons.

“You might not be richest guy in Seoul, but you are talented, hardworking, and respectable. Mr. Park can trust you with his legacy.” Elly’s words are sweet like honey. “You are the perfect groom. You deserve success too.”

What about me? a tiny voice in the back of his head asks. Leo stares back at her with misty eyes.

Elly finally shows her Cheshire Cat smile. Leo can listen to her forever.

This is about me, he answers his own question. Leo needs to start thinking about himself, not anyone else.

 

 

 

**Hongbin’s**

 

The neon green hats are the most ridiculous choice that can happen to Hyuk.

“It’s called camouflage,” Ken says on the tree top. “And we finally match for once.”

“It’s hard not to match when you have forty-eight of these. What other junks do you collect?”

“Sssh. He might hear us.”

Hyuk shifts his ass uncomfortably on the thick rough branch. He rather not breathes if he can help it. Perhaps the world is playing some twisted trick on him but he thinks that each breath he exhales will ruffle the leaves around them and that will alert the resident living below about their presence. Hongbin should not hear them.

Ken puts up his binocular in front of his face. “Hmm… Nice body.” He zooms in on his defined abs that fit together like buttons on a calculator.

Hyuk shuts his eyes immediately.

“Awe. Are you shy?” Ken elbows him.

Hyuk yelps as his arms flail around to keep his place on the tree without plummeting to his death. Shit. He probably heard us now. He panics.

“It’s just another guy’s body.” Ken keeps teasing him. “Are you one of his smittened fans? I will print out a life-size poster of his nude pic and hang it on your wall.”

“What? No. I’m not interested. Why would I be interested in guys?” Hyuk fans himself. “Wait? What? You have what pictures?”

“His nude-” says Ken on the top of his lungs.

It all happens at once. One second Hyuk is clamping his hyung’s mouth shut. The next Ken’s pupils are blown and he tips backward. His fingernails scratch Hyuk’s forearms before he drags him down through the night air.

They are flying.

Hongbin peers out of his window when he thinks he heard something crashed outside.

“Ow. Hyukkie, did you eat gopchang everyday? I told you to cut the portion down. You’re so heavy.” Ken squirms underneath his giant body.

Hyuk groans and gets off him. He lies flat on the soft earth, squashing some budding green leafs in the process. He smells like salad now. However, thanks to Ken’s bony body that caught his fall, Hyuk did not break any of his bones. “Are you hurt anywhere, Ken hyung?”

“You try falling off of a tree with an elephant on top of you, then I’ll ask you if you’re hurt.”

“Seriously, hyung. Are you okay?” His dark pupils enlarge like goldfish’s when they gasp above the water surface.

Ken sits up. Besides his heavy head and few bruises, nothing is broken. “Ow. My ankle. You have to carry me back to our car.” He pouts at him. Tears are welling in his eyes.

Hyuk turns his head to another side to hide his grin. Liar. You were twisting your feet a second ago.

Hyuk gets up anyway. He hooks his arms under Ken’s knees and back. He grunts. He lifts Ken up. He smiles triumphantly and Ken squeals in pure delight before Hyuk’s legs crumble beneath him and they crash for a second time. They burst out in mirthful laughs, forgetting that their target is merely few feet away and can probably hear and see them through his window.

"This is stupid.” Hyuk throws his hands up in the air. “Hongbin’s soulmate probably won’t show up tonight anyway. Can we leave now?”

Ken flicks his forehead. “You’d never know. My instinct told me that his lover will attend his opening night.”

It kind of makes sense to Hyuk. What kind of person will skip their loved one’s the first night when they show their own flesh and blood for other people to criticize? Whoever his soulmate is have to show up. Soulmates are supposed to provide moral support to each other, right? What else are soulmates good for?

“Hyung, do you think he and that soulmate will marry?” Hyuk suddenly asks. “They have to be in a serious relationship for him to call his love a soulmate.”

Ken considers it. “If I call you my soulmate, will you marry me?”

“Ew. No.” He gags.

Ken slaps his arm. “You’re rude. It’s just an example.” Even if that’s what he said, he still look displeased. “Just because Hongbin calls that person is his soulmate, doesn’t mean they will marry. They can just exist in each other’s presence. Besides, they might not be in love in the first place. Or he doesn’t think that Hongbin is his soulmate.”

Hyuk leans his head back to gaze at the cloudy sky. “That’s weird. I thought soulmates like each other, like they belong to each other. What are soulmates?”

Ken shrugs. “Who knows. They are probably something the romantics make up.”

“Why would they make that up? What’s the point?”

“Maybe labelling something make us feel better? Like everything will be simple and perfect and ruled by unicorns if we make our lives easier with labels.”

“Maybe.”

Ken watches Hyuk who are still searching for any sign of stars above. “Maybe you will know why when you meet your soulmate,” says Ken.

“Maybe I’ve met my soulmate already; I’ll never know.” Hyuk gazes at the sparkling stars. “Aren’t we going to his art exhibition anyway? Why are we stalking him?”

"I was bored.”

Hyuk leaps on his feet and swears he will skin Ken alive when he catches him.

  
  
  
  
  


**Art Exhibition**

 

The couple of idiots wearing silly green hats step into the wonderful land of color explosion of desires and answered dreams. They can smell the sweat of the young people running towards the end of the dark tunnels. Hyuk would have laughed along with the youths in the paintings if he is not acquainted with the creator behind the perfect pictures.

“Don't be silly. They are just smells of dried paints.”

Hyuk ignores Ken’s unromantic remark. How is he going to present Hongbin’s exhibition authentically if dried paints are all he can feel?

“Let's just get this over with.” Ken yanks on Hyuk’s wrist to pull him towards the most dreadful person in the room called Lee Hongbin.

Hongbin in a simple low-cut gray shirt underneath a white suit glows. He is more sparkling than the firework that sprouts under his strokes of brush.

The words he shoot to the reporters and admirers are also part of a brilliant artistic technique. As a skilled painter, he leaves an impression that can be interpretive without being purposeless. Hongbin is a true artist who knows his charm and how to use it.

Hyuk shivers in front of the skilled craftsman.

In contrast, Ken’s delightful smile is chummy. He is so at ease being around other popular artists and colleagues that are specialized in writing about arts. Did he forget that they are just paparazzi? Those people reeks the perfume of education while they are stingy from digging trash. Now Hyuk smells like manure as he is covered by jealousy from head to toe. He wonders if they like what they are doing. Either they are really stellar actors or they genuinely enjoy their work. Hyuk almost walks away and sulks by himself in a corner if he doesn’t see what happens next---

Hyuk’s jaw goes slack when Ken initiates an embrace with Hongbin. _And even more shocking,_ Hongbin hugs him back and _squeezes his waist._

The two men are grinning from ear-to-ear. The spectators hold their breaths and anticipate their next move. Like those eager but subtle reporters, Hyuk takes mental notes for his next article.

“You’re late,” says Hongbin. He acts like his best bud walks into his party after his guest have already gotten drunk. “You owe me five thousand won.” He opens his empty palm.

Ken slaps his hand away. Hyuk hears a couple of muffled gasps. _“_ You owe me fifty thousand won,” says Ken, putting emphasizes on “you” and “me”.

Hongbin quirks a neatly trimmed eyebrow. “Did you stalk me again?”

“Yup.” Radiant of triumph shines through him. “I got naked pictures of you. Wanna see?”

Audible gasps can be heard now. “I knew I heard someone outside my apartment…” Hongbin huddles against Ken to look over the gallery in his camera. “Oh.” Hongbin is astonished by the pictures taken by Ken. “I look so good. Print this one out and I’ll put it up the wall…” The artist scans around. “Right there.” He points at the bare white wall opposites from where they are standing. Hongbin and Ken cackle over his joke. Other people laugh too, but their sounds cannot quite reach them.

“So I stalked you and you didn’t notice. You gotta pay up.” Ken persists.

“Fine. I keep my wager.” Hongbin actually fishes his wallet out of his pants’ pocket and hands over fifty bucks to Ken. Ken looks smug. Hyuk wants to punch him out for stringing him along like brainless puppet. He can’t believe that he fell off a one-meter tree because of other people’s inside joke.

Hongbin finally returns his attention to his admirers, friends, and reporters. Hyuk senses the atmosphere has shifted after Ken joined the intimate circle. Sure, Hongbin still treats them cordially, but he acts different around them than with Ken. It is so distinguishable that in a short time, the group disbands. Except for Hongbin, Ken, and Hyuk, the rest wanders off to feast on Hongbin’s lively creations with their eyes.  

Hyuk bounces on one foot and then the other until Hongbin’s gaze lands on him curiously. “Hi.” Hyuk quickly bows. “I’m Han Sanghyuk---a junior journalist at _Scandal News._ I’ve always been  working with Ken hyung.”

“Han Sanghyuk…” Hongbin regards him thoughtfully. Hyuk gulps on his saliva. Please don’t remember. He silently prays.

An excruciating slow smile shows upon Hongbin. The wink he gives him is equally painful.

Hyuk immediately blows again. His head nearly touches the floor. “Excuse me. I think I will go and observe your art works now. You know, for research purposes.” He gets up so quick that he sees black. Hyuk marches away before either man can stop him.

Hongbin’s string of laugh echoes in the room. “Gosh. He’s still so adorable.”

Ken saw every single details of their interaction. “Did you know him?”

“Did I know him? He slept in my bed.” Hongbin laughs harder as he sees how horrified and disgusted Ken looks. Passerby will think that Ken is witnessing a green gooey monster crawling out from Hongbin’s gelled brown hair.

“Let’s walk around. I’ll tell you everything later.”

“Ew. I don’t fucking want to know what you did with Hyukkie.”

“Are you sure? You look pale.” Hongbin hooks his arm around Ken’s and leads him down the lane decorated with beautiful flowers called youth despite his friend’s protest.

 

 

 _Blooming…---_ the art exhibition devoids of people after twelve a.m. As the father of his arts, Hongbin lingers longer in front of one specific portrait by himself. His eyes trail up and down the sea-blue-green lines of a young boy swinging his arms above his waist and one toned leg is taking off of the ground. His charcoal black pupils are a shade darker than deep brown, shone with determination. Another spectator of the race may conclude that there is no fire behind those black eyes---they are waveless water. Taekwoon is the docile sea lion navigates his habitat in leisure. There is no storms in his track. If there is, Taekwoon will weather through the most dense hails and snow. His broad back will shoulder all of Hongbin’s trouble. He will shield the cold rain with his arms. He will hold his hand and swim for the shore together to escape the worst of Hongbin.

_“It’s him. The guy you’re obsessed with,” Ken said aloud._

_Hongbin threw him a side glance. “You believe that he exists, right?” Hongbin asked in a small voice. His eyes were lit with panic. “He’s not my figment of imagination. I knew him since I was in elementary school.”_

_Ken shrugged. “Does it matter that he exists? As long as you are satisfied with what you want to see, his real existence is not important. Is that what you want me to say?”_

_“No.”_

_Ken shook his head. His smirk was cynical. “If you meet Taekwoon in real life, what will you do?”_

_"I will be friends with him.”_

_The two friends gazed at the painted Taekwoon. “Then it’ll be better if you never meet him,” Ken said. He started laughing._

_Hongbin kicked the back of his legs while Ken insulted his bad hair and messy studio. Who want to be friends with a freak who was obsessed with a guy living in a painting and gay dead artists, and cooked lasagna in a pot?_

They laughed at the hilarious joke a few hours ago with people around them. Right now, alone in the dark, Hongbin cannot even squeeze a smile for the boy running.

  
  
  
  


The boy running in the portrait makes Hyuk stay at one spot. It is like the first day he met him. Taekwoon was always the silent type of kid who was lingering in the background. However, in the portrait, he takes the lead in the race. His expression is calm but he reeks vulnerability, like he is afraid of the contestants behind him will catch up to him. Behind those veiled eyes, Hyuk sees panic. He lifts his hand and touches the glass that traps the boy. He imagines holding Taekwoon’s big hand in his and tells him that everything will be okay. He will run away from N like he is a terrible plague that Taekwoon barely survives.

“Nice portrait, eh?”

Hyuk jumps out of his skin before he turns to see who’s speaking. He nods.

Hongbin’s laugh is phantom-like. “You’re so cute.”

Hyuk swallows something hard in his throat. He is the boastful rooster sticking out his chest. “Nice to see you again, Hongbin.”

His smile wanes. “I've always wanted to apologize for scaring you. I'm sorry.”

Hyuk is speechless for a few seconds. He searches his face for any sign of mockery. When he finds none, he loses his chance to push Hongbin to a corner. Why did he want Hyuk to stay with him? They were just strangers. Maybe that's why Leo hyung left him. He's crazy. Hyuk learned long ago to stay out of other people’s businesses equaled to keeping himself out of trouble. Hyuk turns to leave, but he stops in his track again. “You know Leo hyung too?” Hyuk points at the portrait. Then he stumbles away from Hongbin as if he sees Satan flashing before his eyes.

“You know him?” Hongbin takes a step forward, closing the gap between them.

Hyuk’s irrational part wants to yell “no”. It's stupid how his heart thumps faster in his chest upon seeing Hongbin’s hunger. Hyuk nods.

“Where is he?”

“I-I don't know. I haven't talked to him in awhile.”

“How did you know him?”

“We published our school’s newspapers at Seoul National. How did you know him?” Hyuk watches his expression like a chick watching the eagle’s every move.

“Ha. He actually got accepted to that school he wanted.”

If Hyuk sneaks away right now, Hongbin will not notice his absence. He looks like he is having a mental conversation with himself. Hyuk takes a step towards the exit.

“I've been looking for him.”

Hyuk turns back to him. “Why?” His face is neutral, trying to hide his genuine interest.

“Because he's perfect.” An elated smile gives life to Hongbin.

Hyuk bursts out laughing. Leo hyung? He's perfect? He swallows his laughter when Hongbin scowls. “Yeah. He's perfect.”

Hyuk and Hongbin come to an agreement that Jung Taekwoon was not human.

“Is he your soulmate that everyone talks about?” asks Hyuk.

Hongbin nods, still admiring his Taekwoon.

That’s weird. Leo hyung never mentioned Hongbin before. “How do you know?”

Hongbin runs his fingers over Taekwoon’s cheeks. “He was there for me during the hardest time. He has to be my soulmate.”

Hyuk shivers. He tears his eyes away from Hongbin’s determined gaze. He has no desire to know how Hongbin will make Leo hyung his soulmate.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: FInally, all the VIXX characters are introduced properly. Hongbin is in for a surprise. :D Thanks for reading this. Last chapter raised some confusion and questions which I was glad to answer. And I also revised it a little too. Please continue to question why I'm doing things the way I do. 
> 
> One more thing: do you believe in soulmates? Or the "right one"? I think so but my bestfriend loves to argue with me. :/ anyhoo...
> 
> If you like the story, please subscribe, bookmark and kudos! 
> 
> Thank you so much! <3
> 
> -suzyelf


	6. Reunion

#  Military Break

The moon is waning, hiding behind clouds. The hemisphere grows heavier under N’s feet. The only thing that supports him is not the world around him, but the peeling wall of a corner store that is set as his unassuming backdrop. The manager of the store remembers N---he was their best employee at his time. N is grateful that the manager did not run away from him like homosexuality is a disease that he can catch. Tonight, he has done more than enough for N when he gives him the liberty to perform in public when he is suppose to hide. 

 

The mike stands firm in the rustling wind. The guitar is strapped to the front of his torso. N has warmed up in the van on the way here from the military base. He only has a short leave, so he wants to sing from his notebooks as soon as possible and as much as time would allow him to. His hand poises over the strings. His heart beats against his chest like hummingbird fighting against the current of wind. He hums the new song a bit. He is amazed that his voice still sounds the same after six months of disuse. He imagines red petals of roses bloom in his melodies. 

 

“Can you feel the love tonight?

I made this song to lull you into my light.

You’re the darkest thoughts that consume me. 

You’re the bright spot in the dark.

You’re my burning star.”

 

No one walks past the tiny corner store at twelve a.m. Though his light voice travels for only two meter, it is a voice that he owns. Bile rises in his throat. He smiles at the two people coming in and out of the store. No one stops for more than one second for him. His voice becomes shakier, less certain of itself.

 

The sound is small at first, but N hears it. It is a slow tapping against course jeans. Ravi hums along to the brand new composition. He sings the cheesy lines professing love: “‘I’m in love with the fact that you love this song as much as I do.’” Their fingers strum along the same rhythm, the same chord. N pronounces the last line in hope, as if the song puts little stars in his eyes. 

 

“Ravi, you always finds me anywhere,” says N.

 

Ravi grins, clearly ignoring his teasing. “I learned stalking from an expert.”

 

“Good for you.” N steps away from the mike to sit on the doorsteps.

 

Ravi comes over next to him. “How long is your holiday?”

 

“Three days.”

 

“That sucks.” Ravi grabs N’s water bottle and drinks from it. N’s evil side eye has no effect on him. “Chill. It’s just a bottle. We share saliva all the time.” Ravi laughs when N cringes. “What’s your plan? Are you going to play for the ghosts three days straight?”

 

“I have one person listening; that’s enough.”

 

“I’m flattered.”

 

N stares at him. “Not everything is about you. I’d say that to anyone.”

 

Ravi fist-bumps N’s shoulder. “But you are grateful to the only one listening to you. I’m special.”

 

“Yeah.” N steals back his water bottle. He drinks from it, covering up his smile. “I sing for whoever listens.”

 

Ravi leans back on his left hand. “You’re not singing for yourself?”

 

N shakes his head. “Of course not. I don’t think writers write for themselves either.”

 

“Not always. I write for myself and want to make money out of it.”

 

N glances at him. “What about your readers? Don’t they make you feel good?”

 

“Sometimes. The good readers make me feel good. The ones who don’t get my stories can piss off.”

 

“That’s harsh. What about the readers who try to understand you?”

 

Ravi leans in close. His gaze holds onto N firmly. “Are you trying to understand me?” He whispers. “I’d love that.”

 

N gasps as Ravi’s breath hits his lips. 

 

Ravi pulls back an inch. “You remind me of my younger self.”

 

N rolls his eyes. “We grew up together.”

 

Ravi continues without hearing N. “When I was a nobody, I was really grateful for that one reader I had. Then I got more famous; I started to care for more people and how they feel about me than I probably should. But that’s stupid. I can’t last this long if I let negativity gets to me, so I don’t write for anybody. I stopped caring.” Ravi shudders. “But you’re different, N.” His dark orbs come into the light when he calls his name. “You admitted to everyone your mistake because you care about your fans. You were being brave for them.

 

“I’m really proud of you, Hakyeon.”

 

A real smile appears on Hakyeon’s face. The feeling of pride has been struggling to poke its head through the turbulent surface. He has been enduring the hardcore training at the military with his head held high. He has been getting along with his comrades in his units little by little after he showed them his impeccable side in front of them without being intimidated by their bullying. He even started writing songs. 

 

It is nice to hear someone else who recognizes that N is changing. “I sing for the people who love me.”

 

“Really?” Ravi raises his brow. “I always thought that you do what you love because you were born to do it. When you dance, the whole world disappears. You disappear.”

 

“Maybe that’s how I started out; that’s before I received so much love from the public. I can’t live without them.”

 

Ravi nods. “I can feel the love you have for whoever listens to you tonight. It’s not a typical love song. It’s a gratitude song.” His profile seems softer now with only the light floods over him. He seems less daunting in person than someone far away from the letters and from the past. 

 

“Thanks,” says N. He picks up his empty bottle with him as he gets up, without perceiving Ravi’s reaction. 

 

Ravi stands up too. “The letters… Did you receive them?”

 

N looks back at him. “I did.”

 

“Why-”

 

Why don’t I return them? “I have a lot to think about.” N takes a deep breath. He needs to do this slowly. “I want to know what went wrong if I want to understand your story...our story. But I don’t mind the letters.” N stays quiet while he packs away his mike. “Where are you going with your letters?”

 

Ravi looks dumbstruck. “They are my messages going to you.”

 

“I mean, you aren’t going home, so where are you going?”

 

Ravi smiles, suddenly enlightened. “I am going home, Hakyeon.”

  
  


#  Bus Stop

 

Ken runs away from the flurry snowflakes. He takes shelter under the see-through canopy of the bus stop. The thick white wall obscures the fancy buildings on the opposite side. Ken daydreams about entering those spacious offices that sell insurance or beauty products. He sells stuff too and he should be proud of how many slew rat-eye customers want a piece of the famous people’s misery from him. “Are we going under?” Ken asked his boss earlier. 

 

“Why do you think that?”

 

Ken replied: “Because everyone in the business hates us.” 

 

The boss shrugged and said he should be chill about N’s scandal. 

 

Ken shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't snap his neck. Either his boss was stupid to think that everything was fine or he just didn’t give a shit about what happened to Scandal News and his employees. Deep down, Ken knew that his boss was no fool; he probably found a new, brighter path for himself, ready to jump off the burning ship and into a life-saving boat.

 

Where is Ken’s safe boat at?

 

“Jaehwan.”

 

His head jerks at the sound of the man calling him without a second thought. It is ingrained in him to respond immediately to his voice. His hair has grown out and the old leather brown strings is now crow black. His droopy eyes light up like left-over glitters in a dusty jar. Like Ken, he hides his hands in his black peacock coat. He dresses like the Grim Reaper. 

 

“I wasn't sure if it was you…” Ravi fidgets with his coat. 

 

“Ravi,” says Ken. He is glad that his own hands are in his pockets so he can’t see him shake like a drenched pup in the alley.

 

“It's been too long.” Ravi doesn’t stray far from Ken’s face. They let the snow and wind swirl around them. They are supposed to be the two statutory characters inside of the snow globe. The same picture is transported to the new place and time. More people run for the canopy and breaks the glass protecting them from the real world. Ravi shuffles over to Ken. He corners him into the dead end.

 

“How have you been?” asks Ravi. He is so close that his white breath touches the tip of his nose.

 

Ken squirms away. “Okay. I'm out of job soon.”

 

A forming smile dances on Ravi’s face. “Too bad I can't help you with that. I'm going to lose my job too, but I’ll see you around. I’m a film critic for  _ Seoul News. _ ”

 

“Good for you.” 

 

“Hey.”

 

Ken looks back at him. Anyone will say that Ken has a poker face. He’s just dumbstruck.

 

“I told you we’ll meet again.” Ravi grins. He looks too happy.

 

Ken says nothing, dismissing Ravi’s excitement like brushing the microscopic snowflakes off his coat. 

 

“Can I have your number?” Ravi asks. 

 

His blank face suddenly contorts. “I still have yours.”

 

Ravi flinches as if boiling water splatters on him. He takes a step back.

 

Two beams of lights stream through the white veil. A gigantic vehicle follows close on the light. Ken takes out his transit card. He spits out “it's good to see you again” as an afterthought before hopping onto the bus and leaving Ravi on a cold day like he did to him.

 

#  Cafeteria

 

The next time they met again, Ravi asked Ken to have dinner at the cafeteria. Though Ken slipped away, now he found himself ordering his chicken curry at the cafeteria. As he strolls along the glass that separates the interior from the outdoor tables, Ravi looks up from his food and meets his eyes. Gripping the tray and a white plastic bag in his hands, he pushes the door open with his foot and sits across from him.

 

It looks like they are having meals in a greenhouse. The jagged leaves of cheap house plants reach out to suffocate them. 

 

Ken hurls the plastic bag at Ravi’s direction.

 

Ravi slowly extends his hand to the bag. He unties it when Ken doesn’t stop him. He takes out a small blue velvet box. He glances at Ken once more. He is expressionless. Ravi flips the cover open. It is empty.

 

“What is this?” asks Ravi. His deep brown eyes that train on Ken makes him dizzy. That look resembles the look that he has after someone rejected his manuscript. Ken half expects him to storm off to shut himself up in a dark room like he would have done during a slump.

 

“I was going to propose to you five years ago.” Ken catches himself whizzing out those words.

 

Ravi closes it. His face flushes. Silence hangs over them. He can only look at the closed box and says, “I should’ve been the one proposing.”

 

Ken would not have been more shocked if Ravi told him that he only likes girl. “What the fuck are you saying? You broke up with me.”

 

“I shouldn’t have.”

 

Ken’s lips tremble. “It’s too late now.”

 

Ravi takes up the empty box again and rotates the non-existent promises in his palm. “Did your dad know?”

 

So he wouldn’t beg him to go back to him? Ken’s lips press together into a rigid line. “Know what? Know about us? Know that I’m gay?” He raises his voice. “Hell yeah. That’s what you wanted, right? You did the fucking right thing breaking up with me. You opened a whole new world for me. I could do nothing else after you left me so I told him, now he hates me. That’s what you fucking wanted. You wanted me to lose everyone.”

 

“That’s not what I wanted.” Ravi’s face is red too from shouting. “Things didn’t work out.”

 

“Things didn’t work out for you. I was doing fine.”

 

“You were deep in the closet.”

 

“Huh.” Ken sounds baffled. “So it’s all my fault.”

 

They stare down at each other, although their prides level them up on the same ground.

 

“I always thought you had someone else,” says Ken. He hates himself for the crack in his voice.

 

Ravi makes his retreat. Ken can tell from his soft brown eyes. “No. I only had you. You are the one I love.”

 

Ken releases a shuddering breath. “I wish I didn’t talk to you.” He retrieves the box and backs away from his old lover. The only good thing that he takes away from the conversation is his cooled-down food.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


October 5, 2016

 

Dear Hakyeon,

 

Have you ever hurt someone unintentionally?

 

I thought I was a good person. I pay my taxes on time with the right amount ever since I got my first paycheque. I donate to charity when there is a natural disaster crisis like they always have in Japan. I let people leave when they have to go. Tell me it was right of me not to go after you all the way to Seoul. Tell me it wasn’t right to let him go. 

 

But I did end up going after you. I did end up letting him go. I let him go because I didn’t want to hurt my own benefits and waste his time in the process. After some cost-benefit analysis, I thought I made a right decision. 

 

I’ve never told anyone how I started writing in the first place, not even to him, until recently. Now he’s mad at me. I don’t think you know this  either: I was lying in the hospital one day after you left. And I wrote. I poured my hatred and hopelessness on the lined papers. Mostly, I was confused. I didn’t understand why you would leave me all of a sudden, until I wrote. I found my strengths and your weaknesses in those words. Eventually, I got over the feeling of betrayal with each second passed. 

 

I kept getting better at writing and so did you with your dancing. Now I’m here to meet you only. I hate myself for taking the sweet damn time though. I should have been there for you before that fucking bastard had a chance to ruin your career.

 

Love,

 

Wonshik

  
  


N scribbles something in his notebook. The faint glow of the bedside lamp paints the papers yellow. “You are my broken piece of memory. When I piece you together, we’ll have the whole world.” He mulls over the tip of his pencil. He writes more nonsense. “When we meet tomorrow, will you recognize me as your completion?” The cheap graphite breaks. N fights the urge to fling it across the room and potentially hits someone in his sweet dream.

 

Who is he? The nagging question crawls around N’s skull ever since the letter arrived this morning. If he actually gets to meet Ravi tomorrow, he vows to get the answer out of him. 

 

N nearly laughs. Why does he care anyway? What happened to Ravi should not concern him one bit. Though he should have read through his script carefully, so he knows who that guy was. Now he is losing sleep because of curiosity. 

 

Someone sinks besides him. N shuts his notebook with a slam. He straightens his back to face his squad leader. He salutes him.

 

He pats his knee. “Relax. It's your last day. What’s your next move, comrade?”

 

“Comrade” is a common word, but it triggers tears today. 

 

“I’ve been trying to write some songs. I don't know where they will end up though.” 

 

His leader tells him, “People forget. You need to have the resolve to attack and fight back.” The small globe of light shines on half of his leader’s face, keeping the other half in the dark. His voice is like light wind passing through a summer windchime, but in the dark, its softness reminds N of his own voice in the depth of his own consciousness. Then his voice gains strength: “It’s possible for the ‘weaker one’ to beat the stronger enemy. That's how the Vietnamese ended the war and reunified as one country.”

 

N nods along even though his knowledge on warfare and history is limited. Somehow, it still makes sense to him. It is like the fox can survive from the lion’s pursue because it is smarter and has its life on the line, while the lion has less things to lose than the fox. The stake is ultimately higher for the losing side. N will run in the wild with all he has.

 

“After you got out, N, dedicate a song to all of us. You can produce an epic mixtape dissing the ones who beat you up. It will be turnt.”

 

N grins. Did anyone use the word “turnt” anymore in the real world? The idea of him spitting fire is just ludicrous. He listens to his comrades snore, including the ones who once made his life here bleak and unendurable. But how long can he hate the only guys that had his back in drills and shooting practices---the only ones who would jump off of high places with him, acting like every minute of their days is on a life-or-death simulator? When will he ever experience the boring routines and back-breaking works, or getting dirty in all places imaginable, or feeling accomplished with his team? He feels like he has spent twenty years with them instead of two. 

 

“After we all get out of here, we’ll go out for drinks as civilians,” says the leader.

 

Their laughs are low, almost inaudible. As he is about to leave N to his thoughts, he asks as an afterthought: “Would you rather die or lose your legs and arms in a battle?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“I will choose living, but I don’t think you would.”

 

“No. I wouldn’t.”

 

The leader wishes him good luck. He tells N that he already lost his chance to die; now he has to live.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally Ken and Ravi's story is starting (again)! Please tell me what do you think so far with RavixKen and RaviXN! Can't wait for N to embark in his semi new life as well... :) 
> 
> Subscribe, bookmark and kudos if you are intrigued or enjoying this so far. 
> 
> And... Happy Valentine's Day! Hope you guys have fun with dates and friends. ;)
> 
> -suzyelf


	7. Fighter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> I edited ch. 3-6, especially the parts with Ravi and N.
> 
> Feel free to re-read them first if you feel like it. :)

  **Discharged**

 

Ravi presses a button to pull the car’s window down, allowing some fresh air through. N sits besides him, his eyes has been shut the whole way as he leans into the reclined leather seat. Ravi steals a glance at his tired face. N wears a NIKE baseball cap, but he can see short black hair peeking out. The hard labour in the army during those past two years is visible on his sun-kissed skin that has turned rough.

 Ravi brakes hard before the red light. The car jerks, waking N up.

 “Sorry,” says Ravi.

 N stretches his elongate neck. “Too bad Sungjae is busy with the new girl group. He’s a much better driver.” He shuts his eyes again without sparing Ravi a glance.

 Ravi scrolls down the window more, allowing more stiff air to be out.

 N opens his eyes again and shifts in his seat looking rather uncomfortably. He turns on the radio.

 A soothing but dynamic ballad that sings about lost love echoes in the car. The tenor male singer sounds like a flowing river---his notes soar lightly along the wind but knocks on N’s heart and stays within him.

 “Who’s the singer?” asks N.

 “Cho Kyuhyun.”

 “Good for him.”

 Ravi shoots N another glance. “You aren’t mad about that? He sort of replaced you....even though I still think that you’re the best. I’m not biased or anything.”

 N finally cracks a small smile. “Why should I be mad? I’m happy for him.”

 Ravi tries to elbow N despite that he is driving rather close to the car in front of him. “You’re lying.”

 “Ok. I’m not happy for him, but I’m not mad either. He has nothing to do with me.”

 “He’s your competition. Are you giving up on singing?”

 N sounds exasperate. “I’m not competitive like you. Just because I don’t care for other singers, it doesn’t mean I’m giving up.”

 “Liar. You care about competition as much as I do.” Ravi taps on the steering wheel. “Remember in grade three you cried in the washroom because you didn’t win gold medal in the relay?”

 N laughs. “You made that up. I hate running.”

 “Nope. You used to be great at it until you sprained your ankle really bad doing cross-country. I remember everything about you.”

 “Okay. Just don’t write every little thing about. I don’t want to bore your readers.”

 “You’re never boring. Anyway, I was trying to say that you aren’t better than any of us.” Ravi smirks. “You have your competitive, demonic side like any of us do.”

 “I never thought I was superior. I just don’t think I’m competitive at all. I stay true with what I want at my own pace.”

 Ravi tsks. “We can focus on what we want but there are always idiots and other obstacles being in our ways. We gotta keep our fighting spirit up.”

 N sits back into his leather seat. “Someone had too much spirits this morning.”

 “N, I don’t drink and drive. I’d never put anyone in danger,” Ravi says sullenly.

 N blinks twice, but he doesn’t fall asleep. “What’s with your last letter anyway?”

 Ravi shrugs. “I don't know. It's just a letter.”

 “Who is he?”

 Funny how everyone asks him the same question. “He's an ex.” A dull ache spreads from his chest. He glances over and notices N not moving at all.

 “Sounds like you miss him,” says N.

 “I do miss him, but he hates me.”

 Some boy band hip hop track pumps life into the quiet car. “Do you still like him?”

 Ravi signals to pull over next to a curb. He parks his car quickly.

 N turns away from him to look out of the window instead. Ravi can tell that he's not smiling at all. Perhaps it's a bad idea to show himself without his pen and paper as sword and shield. Maybe his words aren’t witty enough and he lets the truth seep out at a spontaneous moment.

 "I like him, but I care for your future too,” says Ravi. “I will make you a superstar again in no time.”

 "Thanks, Ravi, but I can survive by myself. I got by all these years without you. I want to sing on stage, not being an actor.”

 Ravi half turns his body towards N. “How are you going to sing if no one listens to you anymore? This is the easiest way to get out of this mess. Why don’t you just take my offer? Do you have any better plan?”

 “Why do you want me to play ‘Kim Wonshik’? Why do you want me to play you? You can find a popular, better actor to act out your life story.” N didn’t mean to yell, but it turns out this way.

 “Because you’re Hakyeon. You know me best.”

 “I don't know you anymore.” Something shimmers in N’s pupils. It is a reflection of the light, or it is something deeper.

 “Didn’t you say you wanted to understand me?”

 N sighs. “I'm going to take the cab.”

 

 

**_Scandal News_ **

 

At eleven p.m., the partly lit office only has Ken and Hyuk as the ground keepers. One drop of silence would be sufficient to wake the death. Ken puts his legs up on his work desk that is strewn all over with papers and newspaper clipping. Hyuk occupies a swivel chair next to him. No one speaks for awhile, until “Hyung” breaks the silence.

Ken shuts his eyes and reclines in his seat. “Shh… I’m thinking.”

 “Are you thinking about N? Or Ravi?”

 Ken glared at him. “I’m thinking about our asshat boss and how to stuff him in the back of the trunk and push him over the cliff.”

 Hyuk spots smoke seething out of his hyung. He has not calmed down from the fight with the boss yet. Ken hyung, the diligent worker had always done his duty and never ever disappointed his boss or stepped out of line. However, ever since N’s scandal had broken out, Ken hyung was no longer himself. All he did was fighting against his boss like bouncy ball hitting off of the wall, not making a single dent.

 “Are you going to stalk N again like he asked us to?” asks Hyuk.

 “I don't know.”

 “You don't know?” Hyuk sits straight up. “You are going to say ‘no’, right? You were so against me when I tried to make a story out of N’s sexuality, and now you’re saying you don't know.” He stares at his profile long and hard. “I'm not going to stalk N again. What other secrets can he possibly have?”

Ken bends towards him. “Hyukkie, we can do this without hurting him. You want someone else to stalk N instead? Who knows what they’ll do to him just to keep their jobs?”

 Hyuk’s expression falters. He can always trust his Ken hyung, right? “We should tell the boss that’s this is a bad idea. Everyone in the industry hates us already. We are really going to be doomed if things go wrong again.”

 Ken gazes upon the ceiling, as if he is going to count all the dots on the ceiling. “Our boss is too stupid to listen to anyone. We can try our best for everyone.”

 The chair shakes when Hyuk jerks forward. “How? You told me to think twice before I do anything. You said our actions can affect others out of our control. You told me to mind my own business. Why can’t you just let it all go?”

 Ken glares back at him. “This is within our control. I regret letting things happened two years ago.”

 Hyuk cringes. “We are just paparazzis. There are only so much we can do.”

 Ken opens his mouth, looking like he is going to shout, but he doesn’t. “We are paparazzis. We already ruined people.” He rolled his chair away from Hyuk, leaving space between them. “You need time to think about his proposal.”

 “So do you,” says Hyuk, spitting out the words.

  
  
  


**Taekwondo**

  


The soft foot lands on Hyuk’s stomach hard. He slides across the gym mat and sprawls all over it. He gasps as he tries to lift himself up by the abdomen. Sungjae in combat robe towers over him. He balls up his fists, prepares to strike again. “You learned taekwondo to beat me. This is very embarrassing even to me. You should go back to school, Hyukkie.”

 Hyuk scrambles onto his feet. “I need to see N.” He gasps.

 Sungjae blocks his chest with his arms. “If you kill me first. And I’m still breathing.”

 Hyuk copies his stance. He bends his knees a little before he spins and hooks his foot to hit Sungjae’s chin. He yelps and falls hard on his ass. “Please, Sungjae hyung-nim. You need to hear me out.”

 Sungjae hops into the thin air and lands on both of his feet in a Bruce Lee stunt. He hits Hyuk’s jaw. “You have no right to see N after you ruined his career.” His other fist attack other the soft skin under his chin. “You paparazzis are scums. I almost lost my driver’s license running from all of you.” Hyuk sees stars. His head spins.

 Hyuk lifts his arms up to block the next punch. “I told you I didn’t do it.” 

Sungjae drives his knee into his stomach. “Your colleague did it, so you’re all in it together.”

 Hyuk collapses on all-fours. He holds up his quivering right hand. “Sorry. I’m trying to make things right again.” He wills his hot tears to go away.

 Sungjae grabs a handful of Hyuk’s damp hair so he will meet eyes with him. “N passed the point of no return. You can’t go back in time to fix anything. His two years of career are gone because of you shitty people.” His voice trembles.

 “I didn’t want to go back in time. I want to fix everything now.” His eyes never look away from Sungjae. Hyuk flinches as Sungjae raises his palm again.

 “Stop it,” says N. He did not have to scream to penetrate the suspense.

 The men on the mat turn to N. Cold stings crawl all over Hyuk’s skin. He begged, fought, and endured for a glimpse of N. Now that his idol stands merely five feet away from him, he wants to dig a hole and hide.

 “I can’t believe you got into a fight with a kid,” N says to Sungjae. “Why?”

 Sungjae gets on his feet to match with N’s height. “I wanted to beat him up for you. I told you: I don’t have an image to keep.”

 “You’re wasting your time. Don’t you have work to do with the new girl group? I’ll deal with him myself.” Sungjae opens his mouth to protest. N stops him: “Go. I don’t have schedule for you to follow me around.”

 Hyuk shrinks into himself as if those words are more lethal than Sungjae’s punches. He cannot look at N in the eyes.  

 Like a vulture circling a bird corpse, N walks around Hyuk who is sitting on the mat. “Sungjae’s right, but I’d like to punch you myself than let other people do it. You’re lucky that I have an image to keep.” N smirks.

 Excuses like “it wasn’t me” dash from Hyuk. He wants to run for the door too if only his legs are stable enough to move.

 “Han Sanghyuk. A Journalism grad student from Seoul National University. Had six months of experience at Seoul News, current events. Now a reporter at Scandal News---a subdivision of Seoul News. You have an interesting resume. What do you want?” N squats before him.

 “I-I want to apologize.” Hyuk’s voice diminishes, getting lost in N’s aura.

 “You already did at my conference.”

 “I want to apologize properly. I shouldn't have found excuses for the thing I did.” Hyuk folds his legs underneath his butt. “Ken hyung said it’s okay to make mistake. I learned my lesson and that's enough. I told him ‘no’; it’s not right until I fix it. I feel so powerless…”

 “You are powerless. What can you do about what you did? It's too late.”

 Hyuk’s head whips upward. His eyes beckon him closer. “Tell me what I can do to make it up to you. I know I can't give you back your two years, but I'll do everything in my power to make sure you get it.”

 N’s laughs are a few notes of staccato. “You’re going to be my slave? Are you going to destroy other people to get I want?”

 “Of course not.” Hyuk looks back at him defiantly. “You want to do that?” He frowns.

 N’s smile makes his eyes crinkle. He quickly makes his lips a straight line. “I’m so over the life of self-brooding. You should worry about your life. Are you going to be a paparazzi for the rest of your life? Are you going to waste your degree stalking people?”

 Hyuk runs out of words to say, so he nods.

 N digs into his wallet. He pulls a business card and drops it at his feet. Hyuk picks it up. He looks from the Jellyfish address back to N.

 “You probably know where the place is. Contact us. I’m sure we can place you somewhere in the company.”

 Hyuk has turned mute. It’s a trap, isn’t it? He pockets the invitation anyway. N betrays no other emotions as he gets up to leave. Hyuk makes no move to stop him either.

  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the hiatus! After I've been reading the comments that you left me on aff), I just had to revamp some chapters, mostly with Ravi and N. That's why I took a bit time before this update. ><
> 
> By the way, I like Hyukkie here. I think he's just adorable all the time. :') And please tell me more what you think so far and how are my edited chapters (3-6)! Clearly, I listen to you guys. ;)
> 
> Also, I've been really considering to apply to do a master in Creative Writing (why am I sweating as I type this?). As some of you know I like to tell people to follow their dreams... but when it's my turn I feel extremely nervous. Finger-cross that my grades and my writings are good enough to get me in. :')
> 
> If you like this, feel free to sub and kudos and bookmark.
> 
> Hope Spring has came for you! :)
> 
> Your dreamer,
> 
> suzyelf


	8. He Came In Old Shoes

**Restaurant**

  
  


“I don’t know what’s stopping you from taking the project. We didn’t ask you to lose fifty pounds in three weeks like those boxing movies. We just want you take a few… scratch that… a tons of acting lessons ‘cause your acting . And you just need to act like those typical Korean drama male lead. Put out a melancholic but hot smolder to show how sad you are and how your life is a living hell---you have plenty of experience of that anyway. The movie will do decent because Ravi is one of the best young writers out there. And voila-” Sungjae claps his hands together. “-you’ll be back to the entertainment scene like an easy breezy beautiful Covergirl.” He gulps down rest of N’s water in fancy wine glass. He smacks his lips. “I should stop talking too much. It’s tiring, especially having a conversation with a rock.”

 

Though there is only a few people in the dim steak house in the late afternoon, N still has his cap on. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot hide his smile throughout Sungjae’s serious monologue.

 

“You think it’s funny?” asks Sungjae, his voice screeches. “I was almost out of work because of you. I begged the company to not terminate contract with you, you ungrateful wench. They think you’re still useful so don’t let them think otherwise. Who else will want you if you leave Jellyfish? What other schedules will you have except for Ravi’s movie?” When N does not respond to him right away, Sungjae keeps talking: “I thought you want to have a comeback. What’s stopping you from taking Lost Land? Are you scared of those haters? I got your back.” He raises his fork like a tribe leader leading an army.

 

N’s mouth never quite closes. Sungjae is being dramatic like he always has. “I get that the movie is my only opportunity to make a comeback and-”

 

“You little .”

 

N’s gaze hardens. All amusement dashes from him. “And I will do it.”

 

Sungjae blinks. He is the nutcracker at the dinner party with opens and closes. “The wrong N got out of the army. You hate Ravi.”

 

“I don't hate him. I wasn’t sure this is a right career move for me. I at acting.”

 

“Huh. I should send my sister to the army. That will get her to pick her hair out of the shower drain. I swear she sheds like my cat. The army did you good.”

 

“Thanks.” N glares at him. “Now stop pestering me and focus on your girl group.” He stabs his forks at the soft tummy of the fish.

 

Sungjae squints his eyes at him.

 

“What?” N asks.

 

“Is this some kind of revenge plan? You’re going to sabotage Ravi’s movie.”

 

N raises his fork at him. “You watch too many dramas. I just want my career back. It got nothing to do with Ravi.”

 

“Really? You acted like everything you did was about him. You were always on defense mode whenever he’s mentioned.” Sungjae’s hand flies to his gaping mouth. “Did he take your ity?”

 

“You’re loud, Sungjae.” N keeps his voice low. He scans around the customers having their meals obliviously.

 

Sungjae quirks an eyebrow. “So? Did he?”

 

“No. He didn’t. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m nothing to anyone without my fame.”

 

“That’s not true. You’re much more than you think you are.”

 

N picks up his wine glass. He casts a shadow upon the red liquid. He will try to fight the dark spot but it’s already permeated in his entire being. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I owe him a lot. I ditched him, but he’s still here for me. I can’t let him down like I did to my fans.”

 

N keeps eating. He has no more words to describe this foreign feeling to Sungjae. When Ravi last talked to him, his eyes were bright with determination like he looked being in a dance competition. They were not nurturing like the times when he treated N’s sprained ankle. It’s stupid of N to expect love from Ravi. It had been ten years. “He told me that I can get to know him more when I play Kim Wonshik, but I don’t really want to know him.”

 

“You just have to do what you got to do, N. You have no time to worry about somebody else.”

 

For a loser like N, time and being himself are luxuries.

 

“All you need to do is be the N that everyone loves.”

 

N nods. He chugs down the glass of wine. It hurts. “And Han Sanghyuk. You can put him in marketing.”

 

Sungjae’s cutlery clanks against the plate. “I gotta go back to the army and find the N that I knew. Who are this crazy person?”

 

N glares back at him. “I’m still here and I’m not crazy. If that kid has the gut to be around me, why can’t I do Ravi project?”

 

“Yes,” says Sungjae, loud enough for the people at the other tables to throw them looks. “That’s what I was trying to say. Gotta tell those people to ‘ off’. Here, take my middle finger. They can try tearing you apart.” He whoops.

 

N slaps his hand. “I’ll never take you out to dinner again.”

 

Sungjae waves for the waiter. “Tap, please. My date’s paying.” He winks.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Hyuk’s**

  
  


“Argh.” Hyuk flops onto his bed, staring at the room’s ceiling blankly. The business card is still neatly pressed into his hand. He buries his face into the the giant soft yellow teddy bear that he got from Ken when it caught the hyung’s eyes one day when they were out researching. Hyuk bought it for him but Ken just laughed at him, telling him that he’s dumb and should keep it. He screams into the bear’s tummy. It should be easy.

 

Hyuk gets up from his bed to grab his phone off the his desk that constituted his Mac and bunch of paper sprawled over. He stared at the number on the card and then his phone. He takes a deep breath. It should be easy. He needs to call Jellyfish either way. He has to say “yes” to the offer for Ken or himself. The phone trembles in his hand. He needs to get close to N because… Hyuk is at loss. He doesn't have to get close to N to get what he wants.

 

He punches a series of number. He waits.

 

The next time he opens his eyes, an angel has descended in his room. His hair is swept over in a tousle like a nest. His brown eyes are brimmed with red. He grabs his arm and he falls into his bed.

 

“Okay, kid. What's wrong with you? Aren’t you suppose to be mad at me?” Ken makes himself comfortable on the narrow twin bed, his feet touch the the end of the board.

 

Hyuk clings onto his arm. “I don’t care. Tell me to do the right thing. Tell me what to do.”

 

Ken sits up. He glances at the disheveled hair and the wrinkles ducky pajama top. A reek of old rain boots exudes from Hyuk. “What happened?”

 

“I met N.”

 

“What?” He lifts his fingers off his soft hair.

 

“I asked for his forgiveness and he gave me this.” Hyuk shoves the Jellyfish business card in his hand.

 

“You did things behind my back again.”

 

“I know what I'm doing.” Hyuk moves away from him. He chuckles. Who's he kidding? He called Ken because he doesn't know what he's doing. He plops his head down on his shoulder. “He asked me to quit being a paparazzi and he'll hook me up with a job.”

 

“Do it.”

 

Hyuk breathes down Ken’s neck as his chin touches his shoulder. “You want to get rid of me already?”

 

Ken shakes his head. “You should do it. We’re suppose to get close to him and make stories.”

 

Hyuk gets up so fast as if he stung him. “What if I don't want to stalk people and make stories anymore?” He glares at him without backing down.

 

“Are you giving up writing paper?”

 

Hyuk leans back on his pillow. “I don't know. I'm so confused. I kind of just want to get out of Scandal News right now. It's shutting down anyway.”

 

Ken keeps quiet.

 

“Hyung, do you still want to save it?”

 

“It makes no sense. You always wanted to go back to the news department. Are you giving it up for N?”

 

“I'm doing it for myself. I want to do something for him. And don't tell me again it's not my fault that happened to N.”

 

Ken sacks against the bed like Hyuk. “I wasn't going to tell you that. If you want to be responsible, go ahead.” He shuts his eyes and hums. “But remember to come back.”

 

Hyuk twirls the hem of Ken’s shirt between his fingers. “Did you get anything out of N yet?”

 

“Not really.” Ken detaches himself from Hyuk. “You do what you want and I do what I have to do.”

 

Hyuk bolts straight up. At the moment, he can't see Ken at all. “Why does it have to be this way? You can still talk to me about him.”

 

“And why would I do that?” Each word bites Hyuk deep into his skin. “You have decided to do the right thing.”

 

“So? What does it have to do with anything?”

 

Ken grazes his neck to draw him nearer. “You’re going to work for N now. You shouldn't have anything about stalking him to get information. You need his trust to survive the idol’s world. Do you get it?” His eyes hold altitude. He has mountains behind those glass-like pupils that Hyuk will never surpass.

 

Hyuk nods and he ruffles his hair Good boy. Good Hyukkie. You’re doing the right thing. He expects to hear all the praises about him, though those words never come.

 

“Hyung, why do you need to do what you got to do?”

 

“You remember why paparazzis exist?” His tone was so airy but so heavy at the same time.

 

“To make celebrities miserable? Make entertainment out of voyeurism for people that don't have a life?”

 

Ken chuckles. “Before we blow the truth out of proportion, we see the truth first. Aren't we powerful?” He laughs---a sound that is devoid of merriment.

 

Hyuk will ask what's he thinking about but he doesn't bother to. He won't tell him. “We are. And you knew I was reckless with that kind of power. You are doing way better than I will ever do.” It's the truth. It's an advice. It's a warning. Whatever is that will go through Ken’s labyrinth in his head.

  
  
  


**_Scandal News_ **

According to a reliable insider’s source (aka Hyuk, a Jellyfish employee), N is going to play “Kim Wonshik” in Lost Land. Ken leans on his palm, his elbow touching the hand rest. A headache is incoming as he ponders how things become complicated. He has no idea either what Ravi nor N wants. He is about to find out.

 

Meanwhile, Ken turns to his phone in the corner of the dingy archive room at his company. He likes things on Instagram while avoiding checking the time in the display screen. Three minutes have already past from the appointed time. Ravi is still nowhere to be seen.

 

“Sorry.” Ravi runs into the small room. Instead of the usual white shirt and striped tie, he is wearing a green windbreaker and gym shorts. He places a shoebox and a set of matching gears in front of him. “I was finding these.” His grin reminds him of Ravi when he was twenty-one.

 

Ken frowns. “We’re doing an interview today.”

 

“I know. I never do interview sitting down. Get moving if you don’t want brain-dead responses.”

 

Ken purses his lips as he contemplates if he should go along with another whim of Ravi. He finds himself yet again in the promise of another great adventure with Ravi---one that is fleeting, short lived. Ken flips open the box. The worn black runners are vaguely familiar. Ken’s expression is placid as he trades his sneakers with the old runners.

 

Ravi’s smile becomes wider. The shoes still fit him perfectly.

 

Ken looks up to return a small smile. “Okay. We have one hour.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The mountain’s air in the late morning is tucked away from the pollution of the traffic in the city. Ken jogs along the winding hillside. He would like to indulge himself in the smell of pines and mist, and listens to wild birds chirping. However, the huff and puff of the other man besides him breaks his concentration. His own shoes slapping against the pavement reminds him of his old determination. Ken bought these runners years ago to follow Ravi to this secret place of his. It turned out, Ravi had many more secret places that Ken never learned about. This is the perfect place to seek out more answers.

 

“Tell me about your new project. Why do you want your memoir to be a movie?” asks Ken above their in-sync foot falls. Are you that egoistic? He would have asked out loud in another time.

 

Ravi runs on without stopping or talking. Ken falls into the rhythm of his thinking too. When flat ground gives way to downhill, he answers, “Because my life isn’t going anywhere.”

 

Ken’s heart sinks with his pace. He can no longer keep up with Ravi. The fact that Ravi is sharing makes him stop chasing after him. The Ravi he knew never share his thoughts with anyone except through writings on paper.

 

Ravi spins on heels when he is at the bottom. “Was that too depressing for your interview? Can I have a redo?”

 

Ken stays by his side again. “No, but you need to elaborate what you meant. Is the memoir your new purpose in life?”

 

“Is it? You tell me.” Ravi picks up his pace again. Running off and leaving everything behind.

 

Ken grows cold despite that his body is heating up from the exercise. Why did he expect him to say anything back to him? Ravi’s many secret places never included him and they never will. He jogs to catch up. “So what’s the point of the memoir? Why not do something else?”

 

Beads of sweat slide down Ravi’s temples, Ken cannot tell if those are from running or nervousness. “Can you please give me a break and stick to generic questions?”

 

Ken cannot tell if his blood rushing fast through his veins is due to the running or the anger. “Why are you telling everyone your story when you can’t be honest? What’s the whole ing point?”

 

Ravi stops abruptly. He clenches his fists, ready to lash out. Ken maintains his defiance until Ravi says, “Alright, you won.” Though his gaze is like steel wall.

 

Ken heaves a loud sigh. “I don’t want to beat you. I just want you to answer my questions with the truth.”

 

“My answers were true. Some of them.” Ravi leans his elbows on the railing that prevents him from falling off of the side of the mountain. Ken joins him to peek at the skyscrapers below them in the fog. He listens to his shallow breath.

 

Ravi contracts his fists before opens them again. He fixes his line of vision on the city. “I wrote it for myself and someone else.”

 

Ken’s palpitating heart becomes a bull charging for the red flag. He would backflip to the way he came from but he's a professional. He doesn't take back questions.

 

“Why do you need a memoir?”

 

Ravi bends over the railing. “I don't know.”

 

Ken moves into his sphere that oozes out something sticky and wraps him all around. “You always know what you’re doing. You know exactly why you broke up with me.” He takes a step back. “And it’s more than what you told me. Who’s that guy?”

 

Ravi returns his gaze. “Ken, he have nothing to do with us.”

 

“But he has something to do with you.” His shrill voice startles them both. “Why is he so important to you?” Stop asking, Ken. Stop.

 

“He happened before us. I thought I couldn’t live without him, and he left me. All my years of writing led up to this memoir. I have to write this and have him involved in it.”

 

A sharp chill sweeps over Ken.“I thought you write because you love writing.”

 

“That too.”

 

“You tried so hard because of him. All of your difficult times were because of him. And I was there for you.” The five years he shared with Ravi flash in front of his eyes like stream of lies.

 

Ravi shortened the gap between them, but Ken didn’t feel any closer to him. “I loved you, Ken. I always do.”

 

“Okay. Whatever. I don’t think I can write the article. Good luck with your movie.”

 

Ravi raises his hand. Ken backs away. He suspects that the railing cannot keep them from tumbling down the hill if they push themselves over the limit of what they can do to each other. Ken swivels on his heels and runs and runs until he perspires every dark thoughts out of his body.

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. The Past Phantom

**Highway**

N speeds down the highway. The deep shade of royal blue was a dome that dripped onto the river. The water ripples under the vibrant highway. The world is a tunnel that sucks him through motion, until everything on his mind blurs together. He drives past two teenage boys walking home. They, too, have no shape in the growing black that has specks of red and green lights. Perhaps Ravi wrote about those two in his script. The revised script is his passenger on this trip back to home. He picked it up this morning in the company via mail. N purses his lips. He thought that Ravi would deliver the script in person.

As N is about to exit the highway, he spots someone else that stands out at the side of the bridge. He signals to move to the the furthest lane and stops where the highway ends. He scrolls down the window and cranes his neck. He raves over the woman wearing ripped fishnet leggings, a pair of leather short skirt, a black cami, and a long army jacket. The purple long hair flows past her chest. She saunders over. She tilts to the right but never loses her balance. She bends over to lean on the passenger’s side window. Her skirt rides up to reveal more muscular thighs that were bursting out of the gold brace. N’s heartbeat goes off the regular rhythm as he roams over her lanky but toned body with his gaze, and then he settles on her powered pink cheeks and violet eyes shadow and glitters that sprout like fairy wings around her eyes. The magenta gauze lipstick highlights the pillow-like lips. “Want to give me a ride?” Her voice is low and lethargic.

N unlocks the passenger’s door

  
  
  


She throws Ravi’s Lost Land to the backseat. Her hand rubs over the cottony sweatpants that stuck close to N’s hard thigh. She draws circle over the rough muscle lazily. When N stared straight ahead at the road, she squeezes him. N meets her eyes.

“My place or your place?” she asks. She would have vomit all over the costly leather, but tonight, she is the queen. She can forget about Ravi. She can forget about N playing Kim Wonshik. She can forget about them having something together. She can forget what she’s about to do to N.

“Where do you live?”

She tells him his address. She watches his unblinking concentration on the road. Her slim fingers rubs along his leg. Up and down and higher. She pinches his pelvis. She smiles at the little gasp.

N’s lips drew a taut line immediately. “Why are you in drag, Ken?” he asked.

Ken sunk back to his leather seat, his hands off of N. The amusement dashed from him also. “Why aren’t you in drag?” He throws the question back at him in spite.

“You know why I don’t dress up anymore.”

He puffs out his magenta full lips. “I’m not ashamed being a queen. It’s nice not being myself.”

“What’s her name?”

“Acacla Echevarria.”

N tightens his grips on the wheel. “Ken, what do you want? I don’t have any more secret for you to sell. Can you leave my life alone? I just got it back.”

Ken loosens his grip on N’s thigh. He angles his face towards the window, away from N. “I just want to see how you are doing.” His voice cracks.

“I’m doing great. Better than before. I’m going to suck it up and act in Ravi’s movie.” He turns to Ken when they are at a stop light. “What else do you want from me?”

I want everything from you. I want to be you. Ken bites on his bottom lip. He touches the edge of his skirt to pull it down to cover more of his ivory skin. He can never be someone else.

“I thought about why you and Hyuk would bring me down. I couldn’t think of anything except that you wanted money. I thought our friendship ran deeper than that.”

Ken shudders when he hears N’s shaky voice. He sucks in his abdomen, steadying his tears. Tonight, he’s Aca. Aca whisks her index finger against N’s lips. She stares into his moist, foggy eyes before drawing closer. She removes her finger and places her lips there instead. She grips his shoulders as she deepens the friction between them. Heat rises between them, choking her. Still, she locks his face in place with her sweaty palms. She tries to remember if he is a better kisser than she.

A honk sounds behind them. N shoves her away before she can remember.

N steps on the acceleration, until he slows down to park besides an empty sidewalk. N yanks the purple hair off Ken’s scalp. “Aca ‘s time over. Talk to me, Ken.”

Ken stares down at his wig. Without the synthetic hair, he feels naked, very cold. “I’m sorry, N. It wasn’t our secret to tell. You didn’t to deserve to be treated like shit.” His voice is small. Dressing up as Aca to find N already saps out all of his courage. Limply, Ken reaches out. His palm caresses N’s cheek and chin. The stubbles prick his skin.

“I liked you a lot,” says Ken. He saw N in his lowest point in his life serving as a drag queen in the host club. The silhouettes of men and women threw roses up on the gold-lit stage at N’s glittery heels plague his mind. N was born to be a spectacle on the shiniest stage. That period of time were surreal memories from another alternative universe. Their wallets were stuffed with quick, stinky money. Ken drank with him until dawn. Their sequins skirts wrinkled in their sleeps..

Hell licks him if he has to witness it again. Ken tells himself not to bring N down for the second time, no matter what his boss said. “People love you. You’ll be the best in no time.” Ken understands why everyone loves him. N is too great for his filthy hands to strangle him alive. “I can see why he loves you.”

N quirks his eyebrow. Before N can say ask him to clarify, Ken gets out of his car. He lean over one last time. “N, whatever happened, I tried my best to stop it from happening. I warned against Hyuk to leave you alone. What I’m doing right now, I have no choice.” He slams the door before N can tell him that he always has a choice.

  
  
  


_**Scandal News** _

  
  
What do you mean we are going to follow N? asked Ken. The boss replied: Remember his boyfriend? He’s suspicious. Ken slammed his fists on the table, causing Hyuk to jump out of his chair. Remember how everyone hates us because we ratted N out of the closet? You think anyone is going to want to work with us anymore? The boss clamped his fingers together. His expression was as serene as a pond on a windless day. We’re closing down. This is our last chance. Ken, you were here with us since the beginning, you’re going to abandon us like this? Hyuk hopped on his feet and was about to yank Ken hyung out of this bullshit. Ken shot him a glance and Hyuk stayed put. For the next ten minutes, he watched the puppet show directed by an equally lifeless master. You want some scotch? the boss asked Ken. Ken refused and walked out with Hyuk following close behind him.

The ridiculous episode is long behind Ken now, though not far enough for him to cool down and get the thought of beheading his boss on a guillotine out of his head. In the hollow office, Ken screams out a desperate yell. The veins in his neck pop. He stumbles backward being propelled by the magnitude of his own shout. He tips over a chair behind him, but he can care less. He can already imagine all of his colleagues calling him a traitor that will always stay unfaithful to his bottom line. A scum forever unworthy of being mentioned, even amongst other disrespected professionals. Ken and Hyuk are a bad taste in everyone’s mouths. Hyuk is smart enough to get out of this stranded Hell and runs into N’s arms.

“What else do you want from me, Ken?”

Shut up, N. I don’t need you to make me feel worse than shit.

Ken can’t possibly walk away from this mess. He started it, so he had to say.

Woof. Woof. A crazy ring of barks scare Ken into stiffness.

“Poki?” Ken calls into the dar. The barking grows louder. You know when people say they can feel their arms sometimes after they lost them? What are they called? Phantom limbs. Are there such things as phantom dogs?

No. Poki can’t be dead.

A white shadow slowly trots towards Ken. “Come here, Poki.” He gathers the grayish Maltese in his arms. The old dog doesn’t look too glad to see him. Nothing would ever amuse him. Ken leans in and their faces touch. He never expected to meet him again, same as Ravi. “Damn him. He took you away from me.” Something pokes his face---it’s a card hanging around Poki’s neck. He flips it open. All the card says is “I’m sorry” in cursive letters. Sorry about what? Was he sorry about being defensive about his memoir the other on the mountain? Was he sorry that he chose N over him?

His phone vibrates in his pocket. To his surprise, he answers the call without hesitation. “Hey, Ravi. I thought you threw him away,” says Ken with a hint of accusation.

Ken feels Ravi snaking his arms around his waist before he sees Poki jerks his head.

“I’ll never throw you two away. Never,” Ravi says. His breath is warm against the side of Ken’s neck. Their phones still stick to their ears. Poki is still safe in Ken’s embrace. The three of them close all the gaps between them, warming up the dreary, dark office around them.

Just a little more, let him cling onto the illusion that he has a family for once. Ken kisses Poki’s head. This is what he always wanted, wasn’t it? He imagined owning a nice apartment off the outskirt of Seoul with Ravi and Poki. He will raise a couple of adorable kids with him. They will call Ken “dad” and Ravi “father”, because he’s the more serious one. Wouldn’t that be nice? The people closest to him wouldn’t act like assholes for once.  That’s what he used to believe. “Ravi-”

Ravi cuts off what he’s about to say with a gentle tug at his waist. He hums a familiar melody---their song. The song that Ken always bugged him to sing with his deep, “terrible” voice. He used to say to Ravi: “Just because you’re not a superior singer like I am, doesn’t mean you’re a terrible singer.”

You’re just too good to be true, Ravi hums. He pecks Ken’s cheek. “Welcome home, Jaehwannie. Poki missed you.”

Jaehwan whispers something into Poki’s ears. Something that is not meant for Ravi to hear. “I missed you too.”

  
  


  **Club**

 

The boss of a media corporation wanted Hongbin to come, so he is there in the club. The red and yellow palette flash past his body. More warm bodies press against his torso and thighs. Someone’s hand find his demp one and pulls him along towards the back door. The stranger brings him to the lightless alley. The stranger slams him against the wall. “Oh. Yes,” he says and moans out loud. The guy holds onto him and thrusts his tongue into his mouth. He presses his wet lips against his dry ones. He flicks his tongue lightly at the roof of Hongbin’s mouth. His knees turn into jelly in an instant. The stranger decides to slow down his pace as Hongbin’s pants grow tight. He applies gentle pressure on his mouth and holds Hongbin in place by burying his hands in his half-gelled hair. Hongbin leans in and his hand rests on his waist. The stranger pulls away. Hongbin gasps. “Taekwoon,” says Hongbin. The night sky splits and vacuums all the little air remains around him. He runs his hands over the familiar yet foreign features. He touches the ghost of Taekwoon.

“Who are you?” the stranger asks, heaving breaths.

“I’m Hongbin.”

The silhouette stumbles backward. “You aren’t Sojin.”

Hongbin knows nothing about Sojin. He watches the intoxicated Taekwoon stagger back into the deafening music.

  
  


**Hongbin's**

 

Hongbin wakes up from blackness and was attacked by a stabbing headache. He turns to his bedside where the red gladiolus reside and the clock flashes “5:47 PM”. He groans. He picks up his phone and punches the speed-dial key. “Ken, make me chicken soup.”

“You’re fucking drunk again,” says the man on the other side.

“Duh. Are you coming over or not?”

“No. I’m busy writing a draft on your exhibition. Did you shake my Big Boss’s hand last night? You got yourself a sugar daddy?”

Hongbin makes puking sound. He turns the phone on speaker mode and throws it on the bed.

“Yah. Did you just throw me around?” Hongbin can imagine Ken raises his eyebrow.

“I need to strip.”

Ken scoffs. “You always need to strip. Did you get laid? Say hi to that unlucky bastard for me.”

“Ha. I wish I could find someone as beautiful as I am to sleep with.”

“Sorry. I’m not fucking interested.”

They guffaw. Ken chokes on something.

“Obviously,” says Hongbin. “We talked about that when we were three-year-old.”

“We babbled, you fucking idiot.”

Hongbin rolls on his bed, laughing. His headache recedes.

“Seriously, no one interesting?”

“Sojin was pretty. I hated her so much.”

“Jealous of her beauty?”

“Oh, please. She’s annoying. She kept twirling her long hair.” Hongbin’s eyebrows wriggled. He pinched his voice higher, more girlish, whatever stereotypical girls sounded like. “She was hot stuff trying to seduce my man.”

“My man?”

“Mmmhmm. My Taekwoonie.”

Silence responses to Hongbin. “Ken?”

“You sure he’s Taekwoon?”

“No. Remember a person that perfect doesn’t exist?”

Ken’s laugh stutters. “Right. You can’t find anyone like your Taekwoon in real life.”

“Unless you know him already.”

Some papers shuffle in the background. He waits for his reply.

“Why would I know him?” asks Ken a few seconds later.

“I don’t know. Hyuk knows him, so I’m hoping you might know him too.”

Ken laughs again. “He never mentioned Taekwoon to me.”

A stone drops to his stomach. “Okay.”

“What else did he tell you about Taekwoon?” asks Ken.

“Nothing much. They were on a school newspaper together.”

“I see. I’m going to go back to work. Don’t miss me too much. Mwah.” Ken smooches his phone, and then nothing.

Hongbin stares at his phone. The call only lasted five minutes and six seconds. He will call him again and suck answer out of him. He will ask him if he cares about Taekwoon at all. He will tell him that he can be his and Taekwoon’s wedding photographer, so he should know everything about his future groom. Ken should ask him all about Taekwoon, like they always did when one of them has an unrequited crush. Hongbin touches the key once to call. Twice to close it. Ken is weird.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi guys, I'm so glad that I'm back online on AFF!! T.T I really need to get my ass back into writng if I don't want to have shattered dream like old Hongbin. D: On a positive note, I can't wait to reply and see your comments. <3
> 
> Hopefully, the N and Ken bit isn't that confusing... o.O Please let me know what you think of the exchange. >< The connection between each charater is complicated since they have a long history from decades ago lol. (Yay. Long live VIXX friendship.)
> 
> I suppose the question of the day is should Ken or Ravi be forgiven? And as I promised one of the dedicated Leobin shipper, there will finally be some more of the ship developing as well! I'm excited to see what  happens to Leo after he broke up w/ N. ;)
> 
> Anyway, thank you for your support so far. I appreciate all the feedback through comments, subscribe, bookmark, and kudos. Thank you!
> 
> Your dreamer,
> 
> suzyelf
> 
> P.S. I want to make a OST playlist for this sad melodrama, I welcome any song that reminds you of the story and the characters! :)


	10. The Man In the Sketchbook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  "I like the sad eyes, bad guys/ Mouth full of white lies/ 
> 
> Kiss me in the corridor/ But quick to tell me goodbye"- Halsey ("Ghost") 

**Bar**

Leo yanks his striped necktie until it comes loose. He pours Sojin another shot of soju.

“Love shot. Love shot. Love shot,” say their colleagues around them. The white smoke cloud their red and pink faces, but their voices penetrate through the hip hop track that is playing in the karaoke machine.

The couple’ smiles are wide, showing their pearly white teeth. Leo and Sojin hook their elbows together and throw their heads back. Their stinging liquid slide down their throats.

They all cheer. “More. More. More.”

“Let’s do mandu. Loser has to drink,” says Leo to the colleague next to him.

So they play. Zero. Five. Zero. Leo loses five rounds. The thick bass sound drowns out Sojin’s laughter.

After two more rounds, Leo collapse against Sojin’s slim shoulder. She tugs on his hand and drags him out of the party room. They lean against the lightless hallway. Leo slides down against the peeled wall. He buries his head in his palms. “My head hurts,” he says to his hands.

Sojin wraps an arm around him. Leo shrugs it away.

His body quivers. “My chest hurts so much.”

“I'll take you home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“I'll stay with you for the night.”

Leo pushes his arm on the wall to pull himself up. “No. We aren’t married yet. What would your father think?” His hand presses against the sticky walls that guide him towards the exit.

Sojin lingers on the spot for a couple of minutes. She sucks in a shaky breath before staggers back to her friends and receives her birthday blessings.

  
  


**Playground**

Leo blurts out the direction to his home to the cab driver. He shuts his eyes for the entire way as the cab weaves through the sparse traffic in Seoul. His stomach churns over and bile grows in his throat. The headache is good. He likes not be able to think and see at all. He loved being a drunk mess.

He sleeps until the driver drags him out by the arms and throws him on the curb. He is going to stick his filthy hand into his jacket if Leo does nothing to smack his hand away. How dared he take my money? He throws a shiny five-hundred won at him. The cab drives off to the blackness, leaving the drunkard flopping over the sidewalk. How long are you going to sleep outside in the cold? Leo holds onto the metal railing at the sidewalk and pulls himself up. He gazes upon the tall residential complex before him. This is not my home. Not anymore. He crosses the ground between the palm trees anyway.

He follows his memory to the place where the playground is. The sole light source is the white light slanting from the lamp pole. He plops down on the slide’s tubular mouth. He slumps against the yellow plastic. Leo propels himself further up into the slide so it will protect him from the wind and sound, only his legs are visible. Six months ago, Leo would have a bed to sleep in if Hakyeon finds him here outside of his apartment. Hakyeon would have covered himself in black from head to toe. He would drag Leo out of the slide and half carry him to the entrance of the building even though he is shorter than Leo. But Hakyeon was doing hard drills at the military right now while Leo was flopping around.

“Hey. You okay?” a baritone voice asks, disrupting his half sleep, half dream.

“No. I'm not, Hakyeon.”

Hongbin squats besides the man hiding himself in the slide. “Do you feel better sleeping outside?”

“Yeah. Do you feel better when you're with me?”

The man outside taps on the slide. Leo can hear him think.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Hongbin frowns. “Because… Because I love you.”

Leo cackles. “Don't tell me things that you don't know.”

“Of course I don't know anything.” Hongbin raises his voice. “I only know someone called Hakyeon and he would say corny stuff like that.”

Thud. Leo got up too fast and hit his forehead on the cheap plastic. He lies back down again. “Is he in the army too?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he a singer?”

Leo hears some feet shuffling, and then “yeah.”

Leo’s heart pounds on his chest like hammer hitting a nail. “Can you pretend to be him like you did earlier?”

More tapping and humming on the outside.

“Please?”

“Okay.”

Leo takes short rapid breaths. He wanted to tell him a lot of things, but no words come except “Hakyeon, I'm sorry.”

“You could have tell that to his face-”

“You are Hakyeon.” Leo sucks a big gulp of freezing air before threading past the fine line between dream and reality. “I am sorry for hurting you, but I think I'm doing fine. I don't regret leaving you.”

“Then why are we having this conversation? Why are you crying?”

“That's not what Hakyeon would say. He would be happy for me. He would congratulate me for meeting the woman of my dream. He will forget about me.”

Hongbin gets up from his squatting position. “I'm not him.” He towers over Leo and wraps his fingers around his ankles to tug him like dragging a wooden boat to shore. He drops his legs when Leo emerges. He looked stunned for a moment. Leo wanted to ask if this stranger knew him too. Perhaps N talked about about Leo in front of this guy? The corner’s lips curl upwards. That’s something N would do.

“I’ll take you home,” says Hongbin in a monotone, though he hears himself shake.

“This is my home.”

Hongbin gazes up at the dimmed window where N suppose to live. “Not anymore.” He pulls out his phone and presses his speed dial. “Hey, Ken, can you pick me up?” He tells him N’s address before hanging up. Hongbin sits back down again. “I’m Hongbin. Nice to meet you, I guess.”

“Jung Taekwoon. People call me Leo.”

Hongbin shows him a wild dimpled smile. “I know,” he says.

  
  


**Hongbin’s**

  
It is a blur. Leo cannot keep track of who’s taking off the top first. Himself or Hongbin. He pushes the shorter man onto the mattress. He giggles when the man under him bounces. “I threw you too hard.”

“Shut up. And take that off.” Hongbin grabs Leo’s belt. “Just fuck me harder.”

Leo kisses and bites on his ear. “Aren’t you feisty. He’d never do-” He moans and winces when Hongbin kneads between his pants. His pupils become focus upon the man under him. He has a square jaw and a softest luscious lips.

“Are you doing me or Hakyeon right now?” asks Hongbin.

“You,” says Leo meekly.

Hongbin holds his cheeks to draw him nearer. “I’m definitely sexier.” He grins.

Leo smiles back, though he backs off a bit. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.” He moans as Hongbin trails wet kiss down his chest and abs.

“Really? Your body is telling me otherwise.” Hongbin makes his up to his neck and places a soft kiss. “Loosen up. Forget about him this time. Don’t think. Just do.” He stares up into his glossy eyes and kisses the corner of his lips.

Leo sighs. “You devil.” He dives into Hongbin’s lips.

  
  
  
  


The first thing that Leo sees is a man drawing on his sketchbook after he opens his eyes. He stays on the flat pillow. His head is too heavy to lift itself up. Hongbin looks up from his book and smiles at him. Leo automatically smiles back. “Morning.”

“Are you hungry?” asks Hongbin.

“No.”

Hongbin looks back on his drawing and back to Leo again; it happens a few times.

“You’re drawing me.”

Hongbin looks down at his sketchbook again. He adds a few lines, shading it.

“Am I a good model?” Leo crosses his arms behind his head and exposes his clean shaven chest  and flexed arms. A smirk graces his lips. “I bet you like what you’re seeing.”

Hongbin hums, still, he can’t hide the small smile on his face. No one can resist Leo’s biceps. “So that’s how you seduced Sojin.”

Leo’s smile transforms into a pout. “I don’t remember mentioning her.”

“I saw her at your boss’s party.”

Leo widens his eyes. “It was you in the alley. I thought you weren’t real, Hongbin.”

Hongbin puffs out a laugh. “I thought the same thing.”

Leo shifts his upper body to relieve the pressure on his side. His line of vision falls upon a framed photograph by the bed. Hongbin dresses in a black robe and matching grad cap. He hugs the bouquet close to him. Another man slings his arm around him. They are grinning and their eyes squeeze together. “You know Ken too?” he asks. “We’re living in a small world.”

Hongbin drops his pencil. The room echoes with the sound of wood hitting the floor. “What do you mean?”

Leo brings his attention to the photo. “Is that Lee Jaehwan? I was in the school newspaper with him. I was the editor-in-chief.” His eyes light up.

“Excuse me.” Hongbin gets up and dumps his book on the bed. “I need to make a call.”

Leo picks up the sketchbook as soon as Hongbin is out of sight. He traces his own features on the paper. His lips are broader and his eyebrows are more of an arch shape than his own. He brushes his fingers over his own full cheeks. This man in the portrait---himself---or whoever that is, appears younger than he, but his features are more angular. He exudes more assertion than he did when he was a teenager. This is him, but not him. Leo flips the cover over the portrait and throws it away. Maybe Hongbin is an overrated artist. He should have drawn his face with scientific precision. He pukes over the side of the bed.

  
***  


The doorbell rings rapidly. Hongbin drops his paintbrush to cover his ears.

Fists pound on the door. “Yah. Hongbin, I know you’re in there.” Ken’s voice sounds muffled through the oak door.

The drumming ceases. Hongbin lowers his hands. He hears key clinks against the doorknob. “Shit.”

Ken gets in and then the door falls back into its frame with a thud.

“I don’t want to talk to you” He turns back to his painting.

“You’re already talking to me, dumbass. I've apologized a million times. I knelt down to you and ordered you roses from Spain and you’re still mad.”

Hongbin angles his body back to him. His eyes are rock solid. “Do you know what you did wrong?”

Ken plops down on the armrest of the sofa. “I didn’t tell you where Taekwoon is. I am an asshole.”

“You don't get it.”

“What don’t I get?” He stomps over to Hongbin. “And don't tell me crap about how I should be able to read your mind.”

“You don't trust me. You think that I'll do something stupid when I meet him.”

When Ken says nothing, Hongbin turns away from him.“You don’t trust me at all.”

Ken sighs. “I don't know if I should. You’re so obsessed with a guy you know nothing about. Do you know what to do when you meet your dream guy? What if he breaks your heart? What if he’s a psycho? You just picked him off the street the other day at four a.m.”

“It was a park, not a street.”

“Whatever. Do you get it? You guys don’t know each other at all, but I know. This is a bad idea.”

Hongbin shakes his head. “Like you said, you know Taekwoon. He's not a psychopath. Why are you so against the idea of me and him?”

“He's a bad-tempered, judgemental, greedy asshole, ‘kay? He won't date someone like you.”

“Why not?”

“You are not beneficial to him. He has no idea what love is. He’s in love with fame and power. He’s-”

“You think you know what’s best for everyone when you don’t. You’re the boring, judgemental one. Didn’t you learn not to meddle with other people’s lives from being a paparazzi? Take care of your own mess with your dad and Ravi first.”

“Get out,” says Ken through gritted teeth.

“This is my house.” Hongbin stares at him, not backing down. Their gaze hold each other’s hostage until one of them has to give up.

Ken gives him one last glare before slamming the door behind him, leaving Hongbin alone with his Taekwoon on the easel. Hongbin strokes Taekwoon’s charcoal face. He looks back on the closed door, a tinge of pain seizes him. Ken will never understand the connection that they share.

  
  
**Ravi's**

N rings the doorbell after eight.

Ravi throws the door open promptly. “Hey. You finally found me.”

N takes off his runners. The blinds are flipped close to block out the moon or the curious eyes. N follows Ravi past the foyer that is covered with worn clothes, boxers and briefs. N looks away. He isn’t here to investigate whose briefs are those. He focuses on getting himself into Ravi’s living room. N claims his place in the middle of the black, spotless couch.

“You want something to drink?”

N refuses his courtesy with his hand. “I need your help.”

“My script is too smart for you?” Ravi gets a bottle of cold water from the fridge and drowns himself with half of it. N fidgets with the script to keep himself from staring at his adam’s apple. He saunders toward N and slides in next to him. His bare knee presses upon N’s. N moves his affected leg.

Ravi opens up his copy of the script. The book lays on their laps. “Which part don’t you understand?” he asks.

“Everything,” says N, without glancing at Ravi. He pushes the script off of his thigh. “I get the script. It’s you that I don’t get.”

“Looks like someone’s done running away from our story.”

N snorts. He lets “our story” roll off his back as gracefully as he can. He’s not here to argue with Ravi. “Well, yeah. I never ran away. I took the jet like a super star.”

“Stop hanging out with Sungjae, please,” says Ravi. They both laugh at the reference of the flamboyant manager and their dear friend. Ravi glances over at N. “You should come back to Daejeon with me,” he says.

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you without an answer.” His voice becomes taut again like a metal being beat with a hammer upon the anvil, trapped as he’s being hit over and over.

“What answer do you want? I told you everything,” Ravi says exasperatedly.

“Why did you write the play? For what purpose?

“Jesus, stop asking that.”

“I never asked you. Who asked you? Your ex?”

Ravi turns to him so fast that N expects him to rise above him and be burnt by his fire. “I want to show you how I lived without you. I’ve been doing great.”

N would have laughed aloud if Ravi is burning bright with passion, instead of looking like a pile of ashes. “You can’t be serious.” Ravi couldn’t have made a whole movie because N ditched him a decade ago.

“Not everyone is forgetful.”

N’s first childhood dream was to become a pumpkins vendor on every Halloween. His dream changed after he met Ravi. He wanted to live the rest of his life with him in Seoul---some amazing place they saw on TV everyday. N didn’t forget; he only found his new dream. “But you said you write for yourself. You write for the money. You can’t write for anyone else because they affect you.”

“This is for myself.” Ravi gets up and raises his voice. “You disappeared without a word.” It was not purely a fact; it was an accusation. “I lived my life for you and believed in you, but I didn’t even get a ‘goodbye.’” Ravi sits back down. He is at his eye-level again. “I should have left home and go to Seoul with you, but I was too scared to be judged. Who writes for a living? I’m not leaving things to random chance anymore.”

N narrows the gap between them. He slings an arm over Ravi’s shoulders. He flings N off. N doesn’t relent and attack him with both arms. N places his forehead against his collarbone, locking him in place.

Ravi stops struggling. “For six months, I thought you left because you couldn’t accept that you actually slept with me. I thought you couldn't admit that you were in love with a guy.” He shrugs N off, breaking out of his grasp. “But I wasn’t that important to you.”

N was young, but he wasn’t stupid. He would never want Ravi to give up everything else he loved to chase a futile dream with him. All N could do was running away. He will always feel sorry towards him.

Ravi smirks. Can he really read everything on the surface without any words from N like he always could? “I’m over you. I just want you to see how far I came. I want you to know that I exist too.”

The doorbell rings the second time in the night, cutting off whatever excuses nor apologies that might come out of N’s mouth. But he is well aware that even without that bell, nothing he could say that will fill up the void that Ravi had been missing those years. “I miss-”

His words must have been quiet, or Ravi doesn’t want to hear him out at all. Ravi slips off from N’s grasp like an anchovy escapes through the net. Like he shouldn’t be by N’s side. He only opens the door to two inches wide. Two inches are good enough for N and Ken to exchange glances.

Ravi walks into N’s vision. The hushed whispers and worried lines on Ken’s face call N to ascent from his spot. He shoves past Ravi and looks at Ken only. “I'm done talking to Ravi,” he tells Ken. His hand creeps on Ravi’s shoulder. “See you in Daejeon.” The whisper is intimate but it is loud enough for everyone to hear. His sharp eyes never leaves Ken.

Ken looks like he has been slapped twice, so N keeps his mouth shut. For a second, N finds him pitiable, even though Ken is suppose to be the one whom Ravi loves. He pats Ken’s shoulder on the way out. N stalks down the hall towards the elevator. He listens for the footsteps shuffling and the door closes behind him. N is all alone.

  
  
  
  
  
Once they are safely tucked inside, Ken pulls his hand from Ravi’s grasp. “I just need to drop the kimchi off. I’m going.”

“Ken,” his name rolls out softly off his tongue, “he’s the guy I talked to you about. He’s going to play me in my new movie.”

“Okay.” Ken shrugs his hand off, pretending that he never knew that nor does he care. He puts the plastic bag on surface of the TV set. He reaches for the doorknob and opens the door before it slams back to its place. Ravi’s hand presses against the door next to his ear. The warmth of Ravi’s chest traps Ken on top of the door.

“You’re the one that I want to go to Daejeon with.” His heated breath makes Ken’s ears go red. “I asked him to go with me for business only. I have to do it.”

He runs his fingers lightly over Ravi’s thin cheeks. “No one’s making you doing anything.”

“True. I’m doing it for myself.”

Ken tries pushing him away. Ravi holds onto his wrist. “But I don’t care about him. I care about you.”

Ken would have shove him away, but his piercing gaze freezes him in place.

Ravi lets him go. Ken releases his held breath.

“He’s a chore that I need to finish after all those years. I’m not hiding him from you anymore.”

A wave of dizziness washes over Ken. His hands perspire against his jeans. Ravi peppers a kiss on his cheek. His thin lips is cottony against his skin near the lips. Ken doesn’t move as he trails his kisses along his jaw, chin, neck. Ken gets a hold of Ravi’s shoulders and pushes him off.

Ravi looks back at him, disoriented. Ken grazes his lips against Ravi. He only takes a second of hesitation before kisses Ken back. He pushes Ken to the door. He devours devoured and consumes his lips like bee sucking on the sweet nectar dry. Ken hums into the familiar kiss as if their lips have never been parted. Ravi’s arm rests around his waist, drawing him close.

When they part, Ravi whispers against his lips. “Come to Daejeon with me after I’m done with my work.”

Ken shakes his head. “No. I’m coming with you and N.”

Ravi cocks his eyebrow. A smile breaks through his features. “Okay. My mom misses having you around.”

Ken seals their lips together again before he would change his own mind.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yay! A long chapter to celebrate VIXX's comeback!! I'm so excited for their oriental style (because I got into the Chinese culture and the pop scene lately. <3)
> 
> Ahaha, but mostly, I just wanted to have LeoBIn and RaviNKen as well in one update ;) I don't want you guys to wait too long. Thanks for all the shippers who wait patiently and all the readers who just enjoy everyone's stories. /throws a lot of love.
> 
> Okay, here are the questions of the chapter for my own curiosity:
> 
> Are you yay or nay for Leo making his choice of leaving N and then got together w/ Sojin? And why can't HB just listen to Ken and give Leo up? Why is Ravi pulling both N and Ken along with him anyway? o.O What will happen in Daejeon?
> 
> Anyway, thank you new subscribers and all of the thoughtful or quick comments, they are my food for thoughts! If you like this story, feel free to kudos and bookmark as well or recommend it to your friends and fellow Starlights.
> 
> Your dreamer,
> 
> suzyelf.
> 
> P.S.:Thanks to my reader who recommended me this chapter's song. ;) OST is welcomed b/c I'm too lazy to find my own. This is just something for fun and we'll see how it goes. ;)
> 
> And anyone knows any good poster shop or recommendation shops?


	11. Stay Here

_"Stay Here stay with me/ without any purposes/ Stay Here stay with me/ like falling into the deepest sea."_ \- Xue Zhi Qian [("Stay Here")](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OVMHfCE5330)

* * *

 

**Bedroom**

He is supposed to arouse some sort of animal instinct within her. The smooth curve of her neck guides his hand that offers pressuring touch digging into her skin. She is unresponsive to his cold fingertips and his warm chest pinned underneath her, though she tries nibbling on his lips---she only tastes synthetic pin cushion. The bed sinks under the force of her. She pushes her tongue into his cavern as if this is the best solution, this is the way of life. She is convinced.  
  
He responds passionately. His soft hands that are like innocent newborn’s tap on her bony back. He believes wholeheartedly that this is the life that he deserves to have. He latches his teeth onto her collarbone, marking his presence in this room with her, solidifying his good life. He should be with a woman. His own animal instinct is unleashed.  
  
She, too, as if affected by his determination, starts believing him. Tentatively, she releases a low moan that encourages him to explore the unknown land.  
  
In the end, she is a piece of land that he can cultivate and profit upon. Or a moving body that reminds him of his lover. “You don’t want to end up like him.”---his lover who lost everything because they know about them. Knowing is powerful. Knowing is destructive. He rather not know anything.  
  
Holding a firm grip, he pushes her away.  
  
She holds onto him so she will not fall into herself. Her eyes are accusing: Just when I give everything to you, you betray me.  
  
He is a traitor to his lover, not her. She knows it too. They both pretend that they do not know. Ignorance is winning their game.  
  
“I don’t love you.” She confesses quietly that night in utter darkness.  
  
He bolts straight up. His eyes wide with panic. Apparently, she knows more about their game than he.  
  
“But I have to be with you.”  
  
They part their bodies. There is no point to continue this stupid game if their lies---the only thing that bind them together---are unravelled.

 

**Hangang River**

The night’s wind picks up at Hangang River and blows towards Leo. His dark eyes’ only lights are reflection of the buildings across the water. He stands by the railing and gazes at nothing. The cold, on the other hand, does nothing to freeze Leo’s features. His heart is already frozen at negative thirty degree celsius. The sewer smell of the river is like Sojin’s tears. He feels dirty to have her cry over their misfortunes. Leo cried too when they said their goodbye. It was a shame. They told each other. An universe wedged between them, yet, they felt closer to each other than ever before. Sojin told him for the first time: “Dad worried about me as I got older. I should have kids now at my age. My dad is all I have.  If that woman didn’t leave him…” That “woman” was her mother. “I thought I was ready for marriage, but I don’t think I can live with another person for the rest of my life.” Leo did not know that she could cry so much.

 

“I thought I can marry a woman too,” said Leo. He despised the pity in Sojin’s look. That contemptuous look also questioned if Leo could commit to anyone in general. They wished each other good luck half-heartedly. Either of them believed in it.

 

At least Sojin won’t marry anyone like Leo, he still has a chance to score that broadcaster position. Leo stretches his mouth wide open and screams; no sounds comes out of his most desperate depth. He pulls out his phone to look for someone he can talk to without strangers turning heads at him because he howls at a river. He scrolls past names like Hakyeon, Ken, and Hyuk. They will wag their fingers at him. They are the good people who will tell him that he deserves his downfall. They will never empathize with him for what he does to have the things he desires. They never understand how far he pulled through. He fought against everything for his dream too like they did. No way he will turn back to that sheltered Taekwoon. He pauses at the name “Hongbin”. Hurriedly, he shoots him a text. He waits for the person who never knew him.

 

“Taekwoon.” Leo whips his head at his old forgotten name. Leo gave up the name Taekwoon because it was not trendy for the workforce. Hongbin smiles at him as if he likes the sound of it. Leo stops himself from correcting him.

 

Instead, he pulls Hongbin into a warm hug. His chin fits snuggly on his shoulder. His nose is right above his coconut scent. Hongbin places his hands at his hips lightly. Leo’s hug is impeccable, doing Hongbin’s part too. “I’m so glad you don’t know me.” He breathes out the words down his neck.

 

“But I want to know you.”

 

Leo releases him. He holds his shoulders at an arm-length to scrutinize his intent gaze that hopes for something. Leo laughs a little. “You don’t want to know what a bastard I am.” The glint of faith disappears from Hongbin. Leo is almost sorry to see it go.

 

Hongbin squares his shoulders. “You’re not me.” He sounds firm like an oak rooting in the ground. “You can’t decide if I want to know you or not. I’m sick of people telling me what I can do.”

 

Leo leans on the railing for support. Hints of smile and frown mix together on his face. “I wish people will tell me what to do.”

 

“You should get to know me.” His full lips curve.

 

Leo smiles back. “What’s in it for me?”

 

“An exciting place you’ve never been.” Hongbin’s sparkly eyes beckon him nearer. “You haven’t met too many unimportant people like I. That’s something new.”

 

Leo’s laugh is light like snow and rewarding. “Alright, but I get to decide if I want to know you or not.”

 

Hongbin pulls himself into his magnetic field. “And I get to make you.”

  
  


**Cafe**

 

Visiting the Twosome Cafe became a habit of Ken. It is right by Jellyfish and it is N’s favourite coffee place. He orders the cheapest plain black coffee. If the budget is not tight unlike before, Ken would have ordered the most expensive one with the company’s money. Ken sits back in his corner, eyes are on the glass window the whole time to watch people and cars litter the streets and roads. A tall figure in white turtleneck approaches the cafe piques Ken’s interest. Ken continues staring at the man until an invisible will attract the man to look his way. When the magnetic pull fails, Ken calls out: “Leo hyung.”

 

Leo swivels around to the nasal voice. His expression melts into a smile as he approaches the other man sitting. He slides into the seat across from him. “Hey. Are you with someone? Where’s Hyukkie?”

 

Ken turns up his nose. “I don’t go everywhere with him, ‘kay? Are you waiting for anyone?”

 

“Yeah. But we got some times to kill. He always so wrapped up with his work. He won’t show up ‘till later.”

 

“Oh. Who’s the lucky guy? What does he do?”

 

“He’s an artist.”

 

Ken’s smile falters. That son of a bitch went ahead and dates him behind my back anyway. “What’s his name? Maybe I know him.”

 

“Lee Hongbin. He had exhibitions sometimes. Maybe you heard of him.”

 

“He’s my best friend.” He sips on his coffee and burns his tongue. Keep cool, Ken. He offers him his tensed smile.

 

Leo cocks his eyebrow. “You have other best friends? I thought me and Hyukkie are your only best friends.”

 

“Chill. We didn’t fuck or anything. He’s my childhood best friends. We’re like, bros.” Ken frowns when he sees Leo visibly relaxes. “Do you like him that much?”

 

Leo blinks. “No.”

 

“I swear to God Jung Taekwoon, if Hongbin cries because of you-”

 

Leo chuckles. “You should calm down. I’m just being cautious. We haven’t dated for that long. It’s hard to tell.” He leans over and takes Ken’s cup for a sip.

 

You have no idea. Ken wants so badly to tell him that Hongbin doesn’t feel the same way. “One word of advise: stay away from Hongbin. He’s crazy.”

 

Leo puts down his cup. “What do you mean?”

 

Ken slouches forward. “He broke up with this guy once and got so depressed after. He smuggled an illegal gun and hid it under his bed. He was waiting to either kill himself or that bastard. He’s not someone you can mess with.”

 

Leo stares back at him blankly. No words come out of him right way. “Are you serious?”

 

Ken nods solemnly. “It looks like he’s a fling anyway. You’re not having a serious relationship with him anyway, so run off right while you still can. Find some rich lady to settle with and live a comfortable life.”

 

Leo stiffens. “I’m not as shallow as you think I am.”

 

Ken snorts with laughter. “I’m sorry, what? If you aren’t, then I don’t know who is.”

 

“I like being shallow. I have a good job right now because of it.” Leo sneers. His stance as if telling Ken that he could have been like him, but Ken was not focus enough. He was not cruel enough. He did not know what he wanted.

 

“Congratulation. Stay away from Hongbin. He is not useful to you.”

 

Leo slides in closer, staring down at the younger man. “Are you trying to keep me away from him, or keep him away from me?”

 

Before Ken can reply with some bullshit, he looks up past Leo’s shoulders. Leo turns around when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Leo greets Hongbin with an arm around his waist. Hongbin smiles his closed-lips smile at his boyfriend before giving Ken his glare. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

 

“I’m having my coffee and a chat with your new boyfriend.”

 

Hongbin takes a seat next to Leo. “What did you guys talk about?”

 

“You.”

 

Hongbin’s smile drops. “Hey, Leo. Can you order us coffee and cheesecakes?”

 

Leo flicks his eyes over at Ken and to Hongbin before moving towards the counter.

 

“What did you tell him?” asks Hongbin.

 

“Chill. I left out the part where you are obsessed with him ever since high school.” Ken smirks as Hongbin still has his guard up. “But I told him the part where you broke up with Ravi and went crazy.” Ken flinches as soon as Hongbin grabs a the coffee cup without flinging the warm liquid at him.

 

“What are you trying to do?” Hongbin’s voice cracks. “I thought we are friends.”

 

Ken’s face feels tighter together. “Sorry. I just want to keep you safe.” He pulls his hand in his, caressing it like a newborn kitten. “You scared me to death after that break-up with Ravi. You were a wreck. I thought nothing could fix you again. You even quit art school… I feel like you’re going down that path again.”

 

Hongbin returns no pressure to his touch; he does not pull away either. “I learned my lesson. I see what important to me now. I have my artworks, you and my other friends, and my family. I’m not going to throw you guys all away for a guy after being through all that. I’ve changed.” He squeezes his hand.

 

Ken covers their hands with the other one. “Just be rational when you’re around him. You can be so blind sometimes.” He ruffles his trimmed bang.

 

Hongbin nods. Finally, a real dimpled smile blooms on his face. “And I’m sorry for saying all these things to you about your dad and Ravi. I stooped too low trying to win an argument. You take your time trying to clean up your mess. I’ll be there for you.” Hongbin beams.

 

Ken pats his hand. “You were right. I am running away from my own problems and sticking my nose in others’ businesses. It’s time for me to live my life. I’m going back to Daejeon.”

 

Hongbin’s eyes widen. “But you never went back there. You hate where we grew up.”

 

“Ravi and N are shooting the movie there. I want to go back with him.”

 

Hongbin squeezes his hand. “Wow. You never went back with me but you’re going with him? You’re an asshole.”

 

Ken grins. Hongbin laughs too. “Ah, man. You’re being serious about him. I hope he loves you back.”

 

Before Ken can reply, Leo slams down the tray on the table. Ken and Hongbin quickly untangle their laced fingers. He places a tall cup in front of Hongbin. “That’s your matcha iced latte.”  He reclaims his rightful place next to Hongbin’s once more. He squeezes Hongbin’s thigh under the table while glaring at Ken. Ken and Hongbin meet each other’s eyes and smiles. They try to contain their laugh but fail. Leo pierces a piece of cheesecake to feed it to Hongbin to stop him from laughing. “Eat up. Let’s go to the beach before the tide comes.”

 

“Yeah. Binnie. We don’t want your jealous boyfriend to wait for you.” Ken winks.

 

Hongbin bursts out laughing. “Isn’t the jealous Leo the cutest thing ever?” He touches his chin and turns his flushing face to him.

 

“Awe. Leo hyung is the cutest when he’s mad,” says Ken, cooing.

 

Leo swipes the sharp fork at the both of them and swears to kill them all if they don’t shut up and eat all of the food he paid for.

 

**Track**

Rows of bleachers stack against atop of one another makes Leo experience a vertigo.

 

“Come on,” says Hongbin. Again, those harmless dimples are irresistible; Leo can’t say no to his senseless request.

 

Clank. Clank. Clank. Hongbin holds on to his hand as they storm down the metal bleachers.

 

Their breaths are huffing by the time they reach the track and field.

 

“Why are we here?” asks Leo.

 

“Do you remember this place?” Hongbin stops in the middle of the track number one.

 

“My elementary school.”

 

“And?”

 

Leo shakes his hand.

 

Hongbin frowns, clearly not too pleased with his answer. “You were in this line. You were a tiny kid from class 5-A.” He bends over, his ass slightly off the ground, his hands touch his toe. “When the teacher blew on his whistle. You stood up like this.” He hangs his ass high in the air. “And ran off.” He starts running around the track. “You ran so fast like this,” he says loudly to the wind. Hongbin huffs. His arms flailing around, trying to sprint as fast as he can like riding on a bullet train. His coat flapping by him like wings. “You ran so hardcore that you passed that fat kid by a millisecond and woo hoo. You won the gold medal.” Hongbin collapses at the end of the track.

 

Leo rushes to his side and flips him over. A sheen of sweat covers his face. He still has his dumb, carefree smile.

 

“I remember now: I was that fat kid. I came in second,” says Leo.

 

Hongbin’s smile freezes. He gets up fast. “You were chubby, not fat.”

 

“Uh. Huh. That’s not what everyone thought, apparently.”

 

Hongbin gets up on his feet. “You can teach me how to run.”

 

Leo stands straight too. “Running is easy. First, think of something that scares you the most.” He pauses. “Got it?”

 

Hongbin nods.

 

Leo bolts onto the nearest track. He sprints off and never looks back. The air around him squeezes whatever he has in his lungs. His legs are on fire after years of disuse. The mobius is cranked to life by a handle drawing towards the gravity. Leo lied to Hongbin. You shouldn't think of what scares you the most when you run; you need to think of what you want at the end in the finish line. The shape of it. The smell of it. The texture of it. As vivid as you can. Fear is for losers. “I win.” Leo passes the imaginary ribbon. He pivots on his heel. Hongbin is kneeling on the tracks. He gasps like a puppy suffering summer heat. Leo stalks back to him and squats in front of him. “Are you-”

 

Hongbin pushes him towards the ground before taking off again, but he doesn’t get away too far; Leo yanks him backward. Hongbin stumbles and falls on his ass. Leo shoves him back onto the heating asphalt track. “You cheater.” He’s aware of how close they are, though it doesn’t seem to intimidate Hongbin one bit.

 

Hongbin is fast and swift without warning. His lips presses in Leo’s deep and slow; he makes sure every fibres of Leo feels his softness; he makes lingering contact that pushes Leo to the cliff by inches. Leo is charged with adrenaline with the anticipation of falling; he makes Leo shivering, defenseless. In a blind haze, Leo holds off Hongbin’s creeping hand under his shirt. “Not here in the open.”

 

“You’re going to run now?” His tone has an edge, signaling a challenge.

 

Fear is for losers. Leo flips him over without a hesitation. His mouth comes down quicker, more merciless. He devours every of Hongbin’s moans, every bit of Hongbin’s desire for Leo as he grinds into him. He doesn’t stop Hongbin’s hand from threading past his pants. They don’t stop until Leo gets what he wants at the finish line.

  
  


**H-Mart**

 

Hyuk drops two rolls of socks into the shopping cart. He looks at the shelves of colourful socks loom immediately over him amidst the cornucopia of daily necessities and regrets his decision already. He throws two more rolls in his cart.

 

Ken comes over carrying a huge box of cereal. “That's a lot of socks for me. I'm only going for a week.”

 

“Who said you’re the only one going?” Hyuk pushes the cart. “Lucky Charms? How old are you?”

 

Ken pouts. “Five,” he says in a baby voice.

 

Hyuk tuts at him, but he doesn't throw the cereal box away.

 

“Are you buying those socks for Ravi too?”

 

Hyuk snorts. “No. I'm buying those for myself.”

 

Ken rubs shoulders with him. “Cute. You want to match with your hyung.”

 

Hyuk brushes him off, muttering “you are gross.” He picks two travel-size red toothbrushes off his left.

 

Ken leans his elbows on the top of the cart. “Are you going somewhere too?”

 

“Yup. I'm going to Daejeon.”

 

Ken stops dead in his track in the middle of the aisle selling hygiene products. “With us?”

 

“I’m with N’s team. You do know that they are going to shoot some parts of the movie, right? You’re a terrible paparazzi.”

 

Ken jumps on him and has him in a headlock. The metal cart rattles beneath their weights. “I’m sacrificing myself to Ravi so I can stalk N.”

 

Hyuk squirms away. “Oh. Please. You would have gone with him anyway without N. Tsk. Tsk. You’re too clingy. N is not going to steal Ravi. I trust him.”

 

“Oh. You’re such a smitten fanboy. Too bad you’re just a little brother to him.”

 

Hyuk shouts after him, clearly is offended. Ken takes over the cart and speeds down the aisle, scaring the ajumma being in the way.

 

Hyuk chases after him. That hyung’s denial is bigger than the Nile River. Why doesn’t he admit that Ravi is the love of his life? Hyuk catches up with him at the checkout line. He rests his chin on Ken’s shoulder. He peers down at the things that he and Ken picked out: a pink and a blue towel, green tea bags for Ken’s recurring headache, matching panda neck cushions, bags of tissues, and a bunch of their favourite snacks. Bet Ravi didn’t think of buying all these things. Hyuk smirks to himself. “N probably gets breaks from the filming. Where should we all go? I want to go to the beach.”

 

“We can go to the museums. You like art.” Ken puts the groceries on the conveyor belt. He jerks his shoulder. He can’t shake Hyuk off, because he’s glued there.

 

“Boring,” he says, dragging out his vowels.

 

“Then don’t come.” Ken pays the cashier before shoving the items into the plastic bags.

 

Hyuk helps too. “You don’t want me to go?”

 

Ken grabs two full bags and walks out of the store. Hyuk follows on his heels.

 

Ken shrugs. “You’re doing your job. Who am I to stop you?”

 

“I volunteered to go, because of you. I won’t go if you don’t want me to”

 

Ken slows down. He looks back at him. “You aren’t going for the love of your life, N?”

 

Hyuk shakes his head. He steps up to his Ken hyung and puts both of his hands on his. “You’re not in your right mind ever since Scandal News is a disaster. I want to help you.”

 

“Hyukkie, you’re not in Scandal News anymore. You don’t have to snitch on anyone.”

 

“But we’re still friends. I am sure this is what I want to do now that you guys are back together.” He untangles Ken’s clutch on the plastic bags. He lifts the burden from his hands.

 

Ken stands empty-handed for a moment. He jogs after Hyuk who is getting away. He takes back the bags from him. “Thanks, Hyukkie. I respect your choice, but I can carry these.” He grins.

 

Hyuk starts protesting, telling him that he can’t. Even if he can, Hyuk wants to do something for him. “Hyung.”

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t you feel the heavy weight in your hands?”

 

Ken bends his elbows, levering the bags. “Not really.”

 

Hyuk sighs. “I feel so heavy just looking at you.”

 

“Fine. Alright.” He lifts up two bags. “Take these if it makes you feel better.”

 

“It’s not me. I want you to feel better. Are you happy with Ravi hyung?”

 

Instead of replying to Hyuk’s question, Ken says, “I promise I’ll come to you first when I get hurt. Deal?”

 

How about you don’t get hurt? Ever. “Deal. Promise me you’ll let me beat him up. I didn’t take taekwondo for nothing.”

 

Ken laughs. “Alright, kid.”

 

He skips away lightly like air. Hyuk is weighty like the crystal ball holding an entire future.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  How do you like Hongbin's "creeping"? What do you think he or Leo is up to? o.O
> 
> And do you see a future for Ravi and Ken? 
> 
> Plus, don't worry, there will be more Ravi, N, and Ken in the next chapters. I don't want to switch back and forth between the storylines, which might allow you and I to lose track of what's happening in each one.
> 
> If you like the story, please sub and upvote. Let me know what you think as well in the comment. I appreciate all kinds of feedbacks. :)
> 
> Your dreamer,
> 
> suzyelf
> 
> P.S: Shangri-La is so aesthetically awesome!! <3 My fav in the MV are N, Hongbin, and Hyuk. WBU?


	12. If I Let Us Be

**Beach**

 

Hongbin runs straight for the water in his swim shorts. The fine-grain but poky sand scrap under his feet. He shivers against the wintry wind but persevere past the freezing cold and dives into the icy sea water. He sinks further but not fast enough to touch the sand. No strong arms bring him up above the surface. It is only silence and the impure water wrap him like an embryo. Time ticks on, and he won’t save him.

His head breaks through the surface and shakes the water off. Leo stands a way off. His pale torso is translucent under the white sun. He hugs himself tight, making himself vulnerable. He takes small steps. Hongbin swims towards him and takes his hand. It’s okay. I’m here. Though his smile is more like an Americano than milkshake. He yanks him to his side and dunks Leo’s body into the water. He jolts up immediately. “Holy shit.” Hongbin cracks a smile as if saying we will survive this cold together. “I’m going back up,” says Leo.

Hongbin pulls him back. “The water will warm up. Move your arms around.”

Leo stretches his arms out and makes small circles with his arms. In a few seconds, he is already lying his body flat and slicing the water with his tones arms, swimming away from Hongbin and to the horizon. The beads glistening off his muscular back against the sunshine makes Leo a white dragonfly gliding off of a pond. Hongbin sneaks up on Leo and hugs his body to his bare chest, waves splash around them, startling Leo. Hongbin places his cheek on his shoulder. His breath down his back tickles Leo. For a moment, Taekwoon feels real in his embrace. Taekwoon’s heartbeat pounding against his ear is the best evidence that he’s alive in flesh and blood. If Hongbin cut him, and he will bleed instead of shredded like paper. Leo turns around and cups Hongbin’s face in his palms. He stares into his glossy eyes. “Are you crying?” asks Leo. “Don’t cry.” His eyes land on his slightly parted lips and he dips his head sideway to capture his mouth in his. Their contact is lush and hot and tender. Something spark behind their lips and inside their head. The current pulses stronger when Hongbin responds the kiss with hunger. He holds Leo’s head closer to him. He presses their bodies as tight as they can until no air or no worlds exist between him but that’s foolish. Leo’s warm breath on his skin and whines to his ears are going to make him come right there and then. They have to be apart to breathe.

Leo smiles against his face as Hongbin caresses his cheek. He loves Taekwoon. He truly does. Leo tugs him back to shore.

 

 

 

The bonfire cracks bright against the dawn. Hongbin strokes his paper with different shades of marigold, russet, and pumpkin colours. They burn through the paper. The fire surrounds a tiny moth in the water and fire. They are consuming it. Hongbin wants to break the painting apart, to pieces, so he can free it.

“Try the marshmallow.” Leo waves the metal stick in front of him.

“It’s kind of burnt.” He scrutinizes the black shape.

Leo humphs before picking it out and feeding it to the fire. The gooey thing melts in the heat, joining his family.

Hongbin puts down his work and grabs the stick from Leo. He slides two marshmallow in and places far but close enough over the fire. Leo scowls, light amusement dances on his face. “What’s up with you and your ex? Did you really go crazy?”

Hongbin watches the marshmallow with utmost concentration. “Yes.”

Leo’s face falls. “Did you love him that much?”

“No. I didn’t love him. That’s why I lost it. I felt so guilty after I left him. He really loved me.” The flames reflect on his pupils light Hongbin on fire; he is too hot to touch. “He was my best friend and I hurt him...” His sentence trails off to a black hole like their past love. “But we’re different, Taekwoon.”

“How?” His voice is small. He is almost too scared to ask.

Hongbin’s smile is tight. “I just know.”

Leo reclines back on the sand. An invisible weight crushes his body. The fire suffocates him as he lies next to Hongbin longer.

“Everything is so surreal with you, Hongbin. I met you because I thought you were someone else, but it turned out you were...um...Hongbin. You are hot and we fuck and we have a great time. But you said you knew me from before? I know nothing about you until I know now you were crazy.”

Hongbin slides nearer. He runs his hand up and down his cold arm, tickling his senses. “You’re overthinking things. Me being crazy is in the past. Doesn’t matter if I still am. If I’m not insane already, real life is trying to drive me insane. Like our good friends Ravi and N; they are probably doing some crazy things out there at Daejeon while we are having cake by the ocean.” He leans over and smooches Leo. “I like hiding in my happy place.”

Leo feels himself smiling, but he still shivers. “Do you have a fetish for voyeurism?”

“You have a very dirty mind, Taekwoonie,” says Hongbin. “Look into the picnic basket and you’ll find a Tous les jours cheesecake.”

“I hate you, Hongbin.” Leo’s lips find their partner to spar with. If only his kiss can make the terror in his mind goes away.

 

 

**Studio**

 

Ravi asks N to dance for him. The four reflections moving on the two sides of the mirror give N an illusional experience in the small musty dance studio back in Daejeon. On his left, he studies the two figures dancing on the glass surface. The young ones smile their exhilarating smiles after a serious dance battle. Sweat rained everywhere, supplementing their growths. They passed the water bottle to each other. They could survive the expectation that their parents placed on them as they had each other. They were chummy now, but when they danced, they treated dancing like their pride was on the line. Ravi would always try to win. N was more relaxed about competition because he always loved dancing. He would dance whether there are competitions or not.

N looks to his right. Those two people he knows so well are unrecognizable. They will be at the age that no one would suspect them as being dancers. N would like to think that he will still dance when he is fifty, sixty, and well into the seventies. He will die trying. And Ravi will not dance at all. It will be something to reminiscent about while dozing off on his lounging chair. N wonders if Ravi will accidentally think about him.

Ravi turns on a slow song. It is a soft R&B song that N has always liked. It picks up its melody in phases of waves. One look from Ravi urges N to start surfing the bars. So he lifts his arms while Ravi observes.

N would normally get lost in his own intricate steps than notice himself spinning in the mirrors. Three figures spread their wings out simultaneously like butterflies breaking out of their cocoon---clumsy but they are born to fly. N pauses to recompose himself. He closes his eyes to focus on himself. In complete blackness, he moves through the universe where stars dance with him. He is hopping from comet to comet to catch the sun.

“Open your eyes, N.” The sharpness of Ravi’s voice brings him back to the dusty studio. He sees both of himself sheening and still remains graceful. “Do you see what I see, N? Do you see why Kim Wonshik wants to bring you down?” Ravi walks up to N while he is still spinning. N never breaks eye-contact with the beautiful dancer in the mirrors. “Wonshik wanted Hakyeon, but Hakyeon doesn’t belong to anyone. Wonshik loves to keep the rare gem that he can never have. Look at you. He’s desperate to have you.”

N halts his dance altogether, startling Ravi. He moves in onto Ravi so quick that he falters in his steps. “What about now?” asks N, breathless. Though they are not touching, N is near enough to see his wavering pupils. “Do you still want me?” He drops his voice.

Ravi does not shift away from his fiery gaze, though he can’t stand still. “No.”

N smirks. His slender tanned fingers grazes Ravi’s cheeks lightly. “Look at me. I am still the same. How can you not want me?” He leans in nearer, pushing Ravi towards the mirrors. The air stops breathing between them.

Ravi flicks N’s hand away. N flinches.

“We might stay the same, but everything’s different. There were things happened that we didn’t share. We shared them with other people. Kim Wonshik is trying to walk away from his past.”

“But you can’t.” N presses in even closer. His lips can almost graze Ravi’s stubbles. “That’s why you keep coming back to me.” His hands squeeze a little on his chin and cheeks. “Wonshik wants Hakyeon. Who are you trying to fool, Ravi?

“You should know yourself first before teaching me how to be Kim Wonshik.”

Ravi shoves him back ruthlessly. “Shut the fuck up. Don’t act like you know me, N.” He spits his name out. “You were never there for me.”

N pushes his shoulders back harder than he did to him. “You didn’t bother looking for me.”

“You didn’t either.”

N laughs.  He is dumb to say something that would be used against him.

N was young, but he wasn’t stupid. “I wouldn’t want to have a boyfriend when I was a trainee. You saw what happened to me and Leo. You saw how scandalous everything was. If I found you, we would suffer the harsh consequence. I wasn’t ready to ruin everything I worked hard for.”

Ravi retreats. “You wouldn’t know that for sure.”

“Maybe not. We will never find out.” N stares at their shoes, like anyone would have an decent answer for them. Those shoes wouldn't have anything to say back to him, though his mind does. He already glided past the opportunity for him to be with Ravi. N chose something that he thought was better for himself. He shouldn’t have felt any regret. He bore a path that he insisted on. And he tried his best to be alone.

Ravi doesn’t agree nor disagree with him. He turns his back on him and takes out the CD from the stereo. He unplugs himself from the room, taking away N’s favourite music.

 

**Daejeon**

 

Her hug feels like home.

The short woman mutters into Ken’s chest. “Welcome home, son.”

Something rushes forth from deep inside Ken’s soul. The warmth moves him to tears. It has been awhile since a woman calls him her son and welcomes him home.

Ravi’s mother guides him towards the tableful of foods. The decorations in the room are minimal. Besides a worn sofa, a TV’s set, there are only Buddha statues line up by her walls. Ken is at ease sitting at the dining table like a faithful practitioner meditating on a plump lotus flower.

She still clings onto Ken. “I’m so lonely in this house.”

Ravi hugs his mom from the other side. “I told you to come live with us in Seoul.”

His mom glances at Ken. “I don’t want to get in you guys’ way.”

“No way. Jaehwan loves having his parents around. He will buy you a lot of statues. Right, Jaehwannie?”

“Yup. That’s all I’m going to buy.” Ken grins.

Ravi reaches around and touches his hand. “So you’ll live with us?”

Ken hits his hand. “I will live with mom, not you.”

It looks like as if Ravi is about to whine cutely, but his mom stops him. “You guys are okay now?”

Ken smiles at her only. “We are fine. I was just busy.”

“Jaehwan-ah, I was too harsh on you.” Mom desperately pulls on his hand. “You were the first and only boyfriend he brought home. I didn’t know what to do when you two were on your knees. I’m sorry for hitting you with a broom, Jaehwan.” She cups his cheek. “Come back often, Jaehwannie, even if you don’t want my son anymore. I would trade sons with your parents.” She finally breaks into a smile.

“Mom,” says Ravi, really whining this time.

His mom strokes Ravi’s cheek too. “I only have him. I want him to live his life the way he wants it.”

Ravi gives her a look, as if warning her to stop the “I raised you all by myself” cheesy talk.

Mom glances at a black-and-white photo on the tiny table leaning against the wall. Ravi’s young father is forever trapped. She looks sorry, like she owes him a lot. She wants to do a lot more good for him and Ravi. “Aren't you glad I didn’t marry my Wonshikkie off to a nice woman?”

Ravi snuggles into his mom’s neck. Ken can’t tell who’s sorrier; who’s more guilty. Ken is the guilty one, the sinner.

“You are the best mom in all of Korea,” says Ravi.

“Only in Korea?”

“Fine. In all of Daejeon.”

Ravi’s mom slaps his hand. “Shut up and eat.”

Ravi takes a seat across from Ken. He winks at him, telling him that he welcomes him home too.

Ken stares down at his bowl of warm rice. His mom cooked it for him dry, exactly the way that Ken prefers it, despite that her stomach can’t digest them well. She and Ravi try to emphasize that he never left them. Their story has been continuing inside their hearts. This moment is suppose to be perfect. There’s no stupid boss. There’s no N. There’s no mom and dad who haunt Ken’s dreams. Ken takes a small bite. He looks up and gives them a wide smile. He wishes that the supper doesn’t end.

 

 

 

**Hotel**

 

Hyuk curls into a ball on his side. A crushing stone presses against his side. All his rib bones are going to crack. His face grows so long that his chin is going to touch his neckline. All he ever knew in the past five years of his career is write, write, and write articles. He wrote about what happened to the people. He conjured long, winding dramatic stories about how poor got richer and how the rich got even richer; or how the ugly duckling transformed to a unbearing diva swan by selling their bodies. Hyuk would called himself a creative reporter. What did he know about making advertisement?

His boss asked him to write something to inform people the contest for a chance to get a to meet N in person. In Hyuk’s hands, that nice one-liner turned to an essay full of shit that no one cared about. He crumbles the piece of flyer in his hand.  “Buy your album now for a chance to win a fansign ticket!”---that’s all he needed to type in the square box. He forgot that people are uncomplicated, stupid at their best. One effective line is all they would need from him. Hyuk punches the mattress as if that is his own birdbrained soul. How could he mess up with something that easy? In the morning, he sucked it up and tried everything to pull through his first assignment that’s due in three hours. In the afternoon, he opened his email, and there it was, the flyer in completion, different from what he had sent in, all done by his supervisor. It screams: “You are a failure.” Hyuk thought he would die from a heart attack right then and there.

He buries his face in the pillow. All he knows is writing.

Maybe he should have stayed where he was. He should be by Ken hyung’s side and help him to achieve what he wants. Hyuk is good at stalking anyway. He didn't have to put himself through the unnecessary ordeal of being chewed and spit out again, trying so hard while no one appreciated him. He is at the lowest position in the company that is useless to everyone and earning the salary that he doesn't deserve. It is like his first shitty job all over again. He shuts his eyes tight. Maybe when he wakes up again, that would be a humiliation that only happens in dreams.

The door beeps open. Hyuk rolls on his other side, facing the door. Ken wears his baggy black sweater and white shorts. He strides over to Hyuk and flops besides him. They meet eye-to-eye on a parallel. “Hey, kid. You forgot our lunch date.”

Hyuk shoots up. He peers at the clock at his bedside. It shows the time of two minutes past five. He was so into his work that he forgot about Ken hyung completely---another reason why he should quit his job ASAP. He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes. “We can get ready for dinner.”

“You didn’t bother me today, what’s going on?.”

“I want to die, hyung.” Hyuk buries his head into Ken’s chest. He rubs his greasy hair against the fluffiness of his sweater. His hyung doesn’t seem to mind.

Ken digs his hands through his thick hair, massaging his scalp. “You don’t like your work?”

“I’m so incompetent. I should go back to you.” Hyuk feels his chest heaving. He can be tougher tn front of the adverse situation. N hates him because of his betrayal. Hell. He had been yelled at as a cashier by a customer at the checkout line. This should be nothing.

“It’s too late for that now.” Ken strokes his back. “And you’re not useless.”

Hyuk stares up at him. “My boss did my work for me. I feel bad.” His head flops back onto Ken. He can’t bear to see the disappointment flashing in his eyes. He pulls on his clothe. “Take me back, please. Or else I will burn your four-hundred-and-two panama hats collection. They make me puke.”

Ken gasps. He pushes Hyuk away. “You think they are hideous? You haven’t seen my fried chicken magnet collection yet.”

Hyuk groans. Nonetheless, his lips curl up.

“They need you to screw up so you can learn. Who doesn’t make mistakes at their new job? You probably messed up when you started out as a reporter.”

Was he always a moron? “I don’t remember.”

Ken flicks his forehead. “Exactly. You’ll forget about this terrible feeling soon. Just don’t forget what you learned from it.”

Right, as if everything is as easy as Ken hyung said. He cuddles into Ken. At least someone cares about him in times of crisis. “So you won’t take me back?”

Ken slings his arms around his waist. His touch was light in the dip of his waist. “No. Remember why you agreed to the job in the first place. It’ll all worth it in the end.”

Hyuk thinks of N. He remembers his distaste in his eyes as he utters the word “paparazzi”. And how his eyes lit up the first time he met Hyuk at the Jellyfish office. He remembers the noonas showed him around in the office and the tea leaves imported from Japan at the bottom drawer in the pantry. They told him with smiles that oolong tea is the best for nerve calming when deadlines are suffocating. He remembers failing to create the perfect advertisement before the deadline. “I can’t go to work tomorrow.” He coughs into his shirt. “I’m sick.”

Ken sits straight up, nudging Hyuk to do the same. “We’ll worry about that tomorrow. Go out with me. You said you wanted to hang out.”

Hyuk lets his Ken hyung to pull him off the bed. Like a loser without vision, he follows someone else’s lead.

 

 

**Park**

 

The gazebo covers Ken and Hyuk from the bullet-size rain hitting the bushes and the evergreen trees. Hyuk can feel the moisture creeping on his skin. Ken has his back against the red pillar. His eyebrows come together. “I thought today is going to be fun for you.”  
  
Hyuk bumps shoulders with him. “It is fun not working. I took some pictures. Wanna see?” He shows the small display screen in his Canon camera. The cluster of pink lotus flowers float on the ponds, a group of ink-black crows soar through the gray sky, a troop of children march past them hand-in-hand following their teacher. The two smile upon the group pictures. Hyuk envies their easiness with one another. They fall together in perfect harmony creating an effortless, pleasing image.

Hyuk throws his arm around Ken’s shoulders. He aims the lens at themselves. Ken draws out his face and squints his eyes while Hyuk beams into the camera. Hyuk checks the photo. He punches Ken in the arm. He redoes the picture again. This time they both smile. They are harmonious too.  
  
Tap. Tap. Tapity. Tap. Ken’s shoes hit the floorboard. He swings his arms around like an ape. Hyuk chortles. His hands press against his stomach from laughing too hard. Hyuk hops around like monkey too. They crack up under the rain.  
  
Ken ends up chasing Hyuk around the gazebo in his monkey form. He jumps on Hyuk’s back and grabs his camera. He takes pictures of Hyuk while squatting, bending, sitting, recording Hyuk from the strangest angle. Hyuk is a good sport so he poses like a model on those cheesy public announcement posters---he raises his hand to a “V” sign for example. Then he puts his hands at his hips and sticks his chest out proudly like a Nobel Prize winner for literature.

Ken laughs so hard that he slaps Hyuk’s shoulders. Hyuk loses his balance and tips towards the railing. The stormy rain pounces on him and he is soaking throughout already. He screeches and pulls Ken out into the rain with him. Ken falls onto him chest-to-chest. Hyuk looks down at his hyung. He appears to be smaller than he is at this awkward angle. If Hyuk can, he would take a snapshot of Ken right now when the raindrops sliding off of his damp strands of hair. Ken shoves Hyuk off before he can do anything to him.  
  
Thud. “Shit,” says Hyuk. He rushes out to the camera that crashed into the floor. He presses the “on” button, but the screen remains dead. He shakes the water out of the camera before trying to turn it on again. No response. Hyuk whines. “They are going to yell at me again.” Tears rush to his eyes. If the flyer won’t cost him the job, this will give him a death sentence. He lets the rain seeping into his skin. All he wants is to be a good use to N, but he only ruins everything. Why should he stay at Jellyfish if he’s not contributing at all?  
  
Ken pulls Hyuk up by the shoulders to drag him back to the gazebo. “I know someone who can fix this. Hide it until we get back to Seoul, ‘kay? I will fix this.”  
  
Hyuk turns to him. Ken looks as worry as Hyuk does. He forces a smile. His hyung tries to make the day fun and memorable for him. “Alright. You’ll fix it for me.”  
  
They don’t fool around anymore. They sit and wait until the clouds lift; the rain stops.  


 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Angst. Angst. Angst. Leobin is kind of awesome compare to RavixN, at least Hongbin is a honest person.
> 
> Anyway, what do you think?  Should N not be involved with Ravi anymore like he did years before? Or should he gives his heart a second chance? :O
> 
>  And for the reader who asked for Hyuk: here you go, you got baby Hyukkie trying hard to navigate new workplace and not be a disappointment---an emotional state inspired by real life :/ I wish I had a Ken hyung too :').
> 
> Sub and kudos and bookmark if you like the story. Comments are much appreciated.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Love you!
> 
> Your dreamer,
> 
> suzyelf


	13. From Sea to Shore

**Daejeon**

 

The rowdy company crowds in the grill restaurant. The steam of meat and beer and soju bottles passing around Hyuk like a smoke screen. Hyuk fills his glass full to the brim. He drains it fast. He pours another glass. He sits in the corner of the table with his co-workers. No one is going to notice him anyway. He drinks another shot. He peers past the shoulders and spots Ken at another long table. His hyung is grinning. He opens and closes his palms, playing a game with Ravi. Ken seems to be losing. Ravi taps Ken’s cheek. Hyuk stands up. But Ken and Ravi are smiling at each other. Hyuk slowly eases back into his seat. He doesn’t care that people look at him weirdly. No one likes him except for his Ken hyung. Hyuk tilts his bottle towards his glass.

 

If Hyuk isn’t so focus in his self-pity, he would have noticed that his table hushes a little bit.

 

“You drank so much already. Eat something.” N nods towards his clean bowl.

 

Hyuk feels light-headed. He can hear people whispering about the given attention that Hyuk doesn’t deserve. He looks around for an unused glass for N. He gives him a full cup.

 

N smiles at him gracefully. He takes the shot while Hyuk fidgets with his fingers. This will probably the first and last time that he will drink with N. He probably heard about the broken camera, the failed flyer, the tea-stained white t-shirt, and the lost USB. He would tell Hyuk that he sucks at running errands and he should go back to writing trash. That’s the only thing he knows anyway.

 

“Han Sanghyuk.”

 

Hyuk jumps.

 

N seems to be amused. “Are you going to stand up again?” Hyuk blushes. “How’s work?”

 

N is going to fire him.

 

“You don’t like your work? I can tell Sungjae-”

 

Bam. “I’m sorry, N.” Hyuk slams his head on the table. “I won’t break your camera again. Please don’t fire me.”

 

N drinks his beer. He doesn’t say much except for: “Han Sanghyuk.”

 

Hyuk stiffens all over. “Yes, sir.” His head still sticks to the table.

 

“Do you really like what you’re doing?”

 

Hyuk lifts his head. “Yes, sir. I like to help you.”

 

“You aren’t really helpful.”

 

Hyuk’s heart grows cold. This is really happening.

 

“When I had my first job at a grocery store. I was fired because the money in the cashier was all gone.”

 

Hyuk gulps. At least he didn’t lose any money.

 

Did he?

 

“I didn’t steal them, but I forgot to lock it up. I deserve to be fired.”

 

Me, too, N. Me, too.

 

“But I won’t fire you. I learned from my mistakes.” He squeezes Hyuk’s shoulder. “You’re smart enough to figure things out. The fact that you were breaking stuff means that you were actually doing things.”

 

What kind of flipped logic was that? Hyuk has to laugh. He puts more alcohol in N’s glass. “I’m sorry, N. I will do better.” He bows his head before draining the glass empty.

 

Then Hyuk starts telling N the time when Sungjae had his first job. He splashed wine at a customer because that bastard was cheating on his sister. They bend over laughing at Sungjae’s stupid heroism. Someone saunders over in the midst of laughter. “What’s so funny?” Ken asks.

 

“Have you seen Ken hyung in a lime green wig?” Hyuk asks N. “He looks like a dried up plankton.”

 

“I’ve seen him wear prettier wig,” says N. Did Hyuk imagine N winking? “And hot red heels.”

 

Ken reaches across Hyuk to hit N. “Go home. You’re drunk.”

 

“He looks even prettier in bed.”

 

Hyuk spits out his drink. Some of his saliva and soju land on the grill. They sizzle.

 

N slaps his thighs, killing himself over his own inside joke. Ken looks horrified. He’s about to shout but Ravi already beats him to it.

 

“Apologize,” says Ravi in gritted teeth. He’s on his feet, going up against Mr. Park. Hyuk recognizes him as the art director. He saw him on set all the time to arrange props or any interior designs if they have indoor shootings. He does anything to make the film artistically pleasing and productive.

 

“Are you fucking that fag? Is that why you waited for two years?” Mr. Park spits at his shoes. “We all know it. You’re disgusting.”

 

Hyuk peers first at N and then Ken. N looks calm in the situation, as if he’s heard worse name being called before. Meanwhile, Ken isn’t quite looking anywhere. His expression is blank.

 

Everyone hops on to their feet at one as Ravi throws Mr. Park to the ground. Hyuk cannot see if Ravi succeed in throwing punches at him because the crew members rush forward to grab Ravi. Hyuk would have run over there too, but N’s leaving stops him. Ken stalks towards the gathering circle. N actually did not leave. People scream as ice-cold water splash onto them too. The circle disperses. Ravi and Mr. Park are dripping wet.

 

“You all need to go to the army or grow some brains.” N throws the bucket down before getting out of the door.

 

 

 

 

Someone spins N around. He comes face-to-face with Ravi. He shrugs off his grasp. “You get why I couldn’t like you back? That would have happened. We couldn’t have survived people attacking us when we were little kids.”

 

“We aren’t kids anymore,” says Ravi. He is beseeching, asking more than N can ever give him.

 

N can’t breathe against Ravi’s emminent presence. “You punched him in front of everyone. That’s very mature of you.”

 

“Was that what you had to go through in the army? Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“No point telling you if you couldn’t do anything.” N straightens his back. “I can stand up for myself. You didn’t have to get into a fight for me.”

 

Ravi shoves him. “What if I want to fight for you, huh? What can you do about it?”

 

“Why are you keep bothering me? Should’ve left me alone when I rejected your stupid script,” says N in a pitch so uncontrollably loud that the passersby slow their paces to stare.

 

“It’s not stupid. It’s my life.” Ravi shouts those words. Neither of them seems to care who’s gawking at them in this sleepy night.

 

N shakes his head, as if he doesn’t care about how important Lost Land is to him. “I don’t want to live like anyone. I don’t want to have anything to do with your life. I don’t want to know what happened to you when I weren’t there.”

 

Ravi digs his nails into N’s shoulders, bruising his flesh. “This is your second chance. You can be there for me. This is the best thing we have other than turning back time.”

 

“What about my future?” asks N. “I don’t want you to be there.”

 

Ravi finally loosens his fists. His hands fall to his sides. “Why not?”

 

“Because you’re still the same old Kim Wonshik. I’m scared, Ravi. I’m so damned scared.”

 

 

**The River**

 

N wanders around in the hometown that he knows so well. The shooting ended early in the afternoon today. He wrapped up the scene when Wonshik left home for the first time to Seoul after he was accepted to a film school. His friends Jongin, Taemin, and Hyuk cheered him on through all-nighters. Wonshik left home carrying an entire hometown’s hope and dream bestowed on his skinny shoulders. Even though N disapproves Wonshik’s tactic that pushes him along on this journey of searching their memories, N still bursted into tears when Wonshik boarded the bus for Seoul.

 

N was thinking about himself at first. He thought about how lonely he was going after his dreams. His parents were reluctant to support him. Most of his friends never knew why he left. But then his character Wonshik took over. A small smile appeared. They were suppose to be happy tears. Wonshik was going to find his independence. He was going to show the world how much talent was on his fingertips. He was going to show the person who had abandoned him that he could be successful all by himself. He did not need his other half to complete him. Even after the director called cut, the tears never ceased.

 

Still, N wiped his tears and held his head high. He dodged inside his trailer for awhile without speaking to any of the actors nor the staff. He wanted to hide from the questioning, judging glares from some of them. The gossip is already spread far and wide since yesterday’s night. They believe that N slept his way to get this main role. N needs to breathe in a place where he’s from.

 

N now walks past the strips of stores that made up his route from school to home. His family moved out of this town a long time ago. N would have no one else to visit except for Ravi if he is still living here. N ducks behind his upturned collar. He promenades to the sidewalk above the river. He spots a familiar figure perching on the boulders outside of the railing. N is going to walk past him once he realized who’s fishing, unfortunately, he spots N. Ravi waves him over.

 

N sighs. He crosses over the barrier. He takes Ravi’s hand as he steps down to where he is. Ravi is not alone; an old man next to him smiles at N.

 

“Meet Mr. Park, our math teacher,” says Ravi.

 

“I know who he is,” N says. “Hi, Mr. Park.” He smiles politely and bows his head.

 

Mr. Park only smiles. N suspects that the old man has already forgotten who he is. “I heard you bought a boat?” asks N.

 

“I sold it. I’m leaving my money for my kids,” answers Mr. Park.

 

Something pulls on N’s heartstring. When he is about to scream at the unfairness of life, Mr. Park says, “Kids will always be kids; they make me worry a lot even after they grew up.” The smile remains on his face. It seems that Mr. Park doesn’t miss his boat at all. N can imagine that he used up part of his life-time saving on it. “I can still fish whenever I want.” He pats his fishing pole, as if telling N that he’s living just fine.

 

“Mr. Park, do you remember who he is?” Ravi asks the question while pointing at N.

 

Mr. Park laughs. His laugh is thick like a cello. “If I remember you, then I remember Hakyeon. And Sungjae. You guys were the troublemakers.” He tsks. “That’s why I quit my job.” He laughs again. He slaps Ravi’s shoulders. “Looks like I was wrong about you. You didn’t join the gang. You guys are doing good for yourselves. I saw your film crew yesterday.” Mr. Park smiles proudly.

 

“You didn’t say ‘hi.’” N pouts.

 

“Why would I? I’m just an old man from the past.

 

“I let my kids be.”

 

“But you still care about them a lot,” N says with an urgentness in his voice.

 

Mr. Park says nothing, but he pats N’s back regardless. He reels in the string and points at a bucketful of fish. Ravi takes the hint and carries it for him. “Let’s go home, kids. I’m making mackerels on rice tonight.” He gives them a yellowish, toothy grin.

 

 

 

N leans against the peeling door frame to the kitchen. His eyes are like the waning moons, watching the bigger man struggles against tiny fishes.

 

Ravi slams the butcher knife on top of the writhing mackerel. He yelps when the juice squirts on his face.

 

N laughs out loud. This is a side of Ravi that he’s never seen before. He doesn’t remember either of them ever worked in a kitchen before. Mr. Park, like a good teacher that he once was, never misses an opportunity for his students to learn some life skills.

 

He steps up behind Ravi. He places his hand firmly on Ravi’s waist. His eyes can barely peek over Ravi’s shoulders. “Let me do it,” N says next to his ear.

 

Ravi elbows him a little. “Let me be. I already prepared half of the fish.”

 

N grins as he glances over the pile of disgusting pulp. Poor fish were being beat up by amateur instead of being gutted out properly. N’s hand slides onto Ravi’s lightly before take the knife from him. He nudges Ravi aside so he can get to the fish head. He runs his blade through the gills smoothly and swiftly and chops the head off in no time. He slides it the body open in one quick motion, being committed like a sushi chef trying to present the freshest seafood.

 

Ravi claps slowly. “Wow. I didn’t know that cooking is a part of your training to be a kpop star.”

 

N smiles. “Nope, but leaving home does,” he says lightly. He turns on the stove to heat up the pan for the fillets.

 

Ravi chuckles. “Pan-fried mackerels? That’s not fancy at all.”

 

N hits his chest. “Shut up, as if you can do better.”

 

Ravi tsks. “Don’t be so cocky. I was about to do a deep fry.”

 

N bends forward, laughing until he wheezes. His laughs infect Ravi too. Still, Ravi defends his recipe, saying that who doesn’t like deep-fried foods?

 

“OK. You won,” says N. He adds a spoonful of oil in the pan before dropping the fish into the pan.

 

They stay quiet and listen to the fish sizzles and turn into a golden fillets.

 

“I’m sorry for the other night at the restaurant,” N says.

 

Ravi cocks his eyebrows. “You feel like apologizing now, that’s rare.”

 

N tries to ignore his sarcasm. “Didn’t you pay attention what Mr. Park said to us? He’s really cool for letting his kids go but keeping them close at the same time.”

 

Ravi nods. N goes on: “Can’t we be more like him? I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, but I did appreciate all these time you were for me when I first realized my dream, and even now, I know your effort to try to make me a star again. Things have changed. And we grew up. We can’t cling onto the past anymore.”

 

Ravi keeps his silence. He reaches over and turns off the stove as N is almost done. He helps N to transfer the fillets on the plate. “I see what you mean, but I don’t agree with you entirely.” Before N can say anything, Ravi says, “Sometimes the past is all I have.

 

“You’ll see.”

 

N stares back at Ravi. His eyes are full of a millions of questions. What are we? Are we still friends? Am I still a threat to you? Do you love me at all?

 

“Alright,” says N. If N loves Ravi, he will at least try to understand his story.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I decided to focus on Navi this chapter. What do you think about them? Do you think that they can have a good and healthy relationship? What should N do?
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think. If you like the series, please subscribe, kudos, and bookmark. :)
> 
> Happy summer everyone.
> 
> Your dreamer,
> 
> suzyelf


	14. I'm Kim Wonshik

 

 _"Are you still afraid of the rain? / You still have your short hair?"_  ---[ "Don't Be Afraid" ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVwykqe1mC0)Pakho Chau

 

* * *

 

 

 **Studio**  


N slams his fist against the studio’s mirror. He squints his eyes so they are three-quarter smaller than usual, exactly like how Mrs. Nam instructed him to act.

“Jihwa,” N says her name in a low voice. He glances down at the floor before clearing his throat. He allows himself to breathe out a long sigh.

He remembers vividly about his promise to himself: he will make an effort to delve deep into Ravi’s backstory. This is his purpose of coming to Daejeon in the first place.

Regrettably, his acting skill cannot keep up with his determination to walk in Kim Wonshik’s shoes. He glances at the ticking clocks. The filming starts again in two hours at seven a.m. N yawns. He puts both palms flat against the mirrors. He stretches his eye sockets as wide as he can. Losing sleep is only a small sacrifice for getting to know Ravi and Ken, plus making a popular movie.

N closes his eyes, he realizes how much responsibilities land on his narrow shoulders.

He whips his head up again quickly, he wills his facial muscle to relax before making another attempt.. “Jihwa…” His voice trails off when his eyes lands upon the person reflecting on the mirror---the actual person that embodies the essence of Jihwa. “Ken, you’re early,” says N.  
  
“That kid dragged me out of bed at four a.m,” Ken presses down on Hyuk’s messy crown.

“Morning, N hyung.” The younger rushes towards his idol’s side and digs his soft digits into N’s tendons in the shoulders. “Save me,” he mouths the words.  
  
N meets Ken’s eyes and they burst out in laughs.  
  
Hyuk takes his hands off and sulks.  
  
N feels a little bit guilty for teasing Hyuk. “Go to work, Hyuk,” he says in a gentle voice, a sound that usually pushes his fans over the edge at the fan meetings. “I'm sure there's a lot of preparations to do before I arrive at the location. Don’t you have clothes that you need to iron? Coffees to buy?”

Ken starts laughing again. He snorts. N has a double-take when his old friend let down his guard; he chuckles like a careless child. His eyes are full of adoration for the youngest.

N can’t dwell on Ken for more than a second as Hyuk lightly thumps on N’s chest. “I’m not an errand boy. I am the Social Marketing assistant.”

Ken walks over. He leans on Hyuk’s broad shoulder. “I’m sure you’re the best assistant at Jelpi. What would N do without you? Right, N?”

N nods. “Hyuk, really, you’re the best, but you can go now. Ken and I need to practice a scene.”

Hyuk looks from N to Ken, and then back to N. “Fine,” he says, then he lowers his voice. “Take care of Ken hyung. He's weaker than he looks,” says Hyuk in a much more serious tone.  
  
“Yah. Come here.” Ken approaches Hyuk like a predator, but Hyuk dodges his kick on the way out of the room.  
  
N’s smile is slipping off as soon as Hyuk is out of sight. His hand beckons Ken over, “Jihwa, come act with me.”  
  
Ken shakes his head. “I’m not sure I can be Jihwa. I act as bad as you.”  
  
N glares at him. “I’ll pay you.”  
  
“How much?” Ken crosss his arms. He leans against the row of mirrors on his on his side.  
  
“More than what you earned at the host club.”  
  
“Stop it, N. No one should hear you talking about host club or drag queens.”  
  
N saunters over. His face is close enough to touching Ken’s fine tall nose. “I’m not ashamed of it. I love the time we had together.” He grins.  
  
Ken slaps his shoulder to push him away. “Stop fucking around. Where's the script? I thought we are acting.”  
  
“I already am. That was Kim Wonshik talking.” Still, N moves away to pick up the two scripts lying around on the floor. He passes one to Ken. “Page thirty. Line three hundred and one.”  
  
Ken’s expression has the slightest shift towards the dark side of the spectrum. Good. Let him suffers Ravi’s life story as much as I have.

 _Ken held onto Ravi's hand while trying to trek through the thick undergrowth in the wood. The low branches proved to be the greatest obstacles for the two giants as each step sank into the muddy ground. The air was mixed with damp soil and something wild, like animal feces. Something bloody. Something sinister. Ken shivered. Ravi's back had a shadow hovering him. The shadow seemed threatening. The crowding plants did not ease Ken’s nervousness either. Ravi turned, flashed him a reassuring smile that lasted a brief second. Ken’s steps grew firmer, more assertive. He would follow Ravi wherever they went. No question asked._ _  
_ _  
__At one point in their hike, Ken gave into his sluggish speed. He let Ravi pull  him along to somewhere less claustrophobic. Ravi grunted from the extra weight, but he never once complained. The quickened breaths were in sync. Steps unmatched, but somehow, Ravi made it all work and brought them back to safety. The two arrived at the heart of the forest, where the shrubs and trees mapped out widely across the floor. By now they were panting. They gazed upward to the ambiguous canopy, half shielding the late afternoon sun. Dusk was approaching, but they were not stopping. They were determine to beat time. The sound of water hitting rocks streamed to their ears. By the rushing river, the air was colder. Ravi plopped down onto a damp log and fished out a notebook and a pen from his knapsack. As soon as he found the page, he was the single living soul on Earth._ _  
_ _  
__Ken wandered off on his own when it was evidence that Ravi was ignoring any distractions. Ken kicked off his shoes and socks. His whole body trembled in delight when his feet hit the freezing surface. He waddled to a large smooth rock to settle on. There, he sat, admiring Ravi from afar. He was absorbed in his passion, brows knitted in concentration. It was irrefutable that Ravi valued his world of words more than Ken. But Ken did not mind. All good writers needed to love their creations like their own flesh and blood, right? Besides, Ravi was the most charming while working._ _  
_ _  
__What about Ken? What did he want to do? Nothing, except watching Ravi for as long as he could without worrying about what he wanted to do. He shouldn't worry about the black dog sitting on his beating heart and told him “no, you can’t love him.” Ken whipped his head away towards the water when Ravi looked up from his notebook. It's all cool, bro. I'm not hopelessly in love. Ken told his distorted reflection. The corner of his lips would not stay straight. He buried his stupid grinning face in his hands. The bright smiley face was so extremely rare that it intimidated Ken._ _  
_ _  
__When was the last time he was in an euphoria? Not because of a guy, obviously. Ken’s lips tugged downward. Not like any girls had made him feel this great either. Everything Ken had known and confident about was erased the moment Ravi walked into the party, and into Ken’s life. Before his magical appearance, Ken could not have imagined burying his face into a man's chest and holding onto his waist lovingly. With Ravi, he could play out any romantic scenarios frame-by-frame in his mind, though he would not dare to make his fantasy into reality. He was too inexperienced. But what about now? When they were in a forest that was isolated from civilization? Whatever they did, no one besides themselves would have to know. Ken face flushed. He put a foot down into the shameless water. He glanced at Ravi, luckily, he was still lost in his own little world. Ken hopped from his spot._ _  
_ _  
__Barefooted, Ken settled down besides Ravi. He peeked over to his quick scribbling. Ravi rotated his body away inch by inch the closer Ken was. His arms protected his notebooks from prying eyes._ _  
_ _  
__"What kind of story are you working on?" asked Ken._ _  
_ _  
__Ravi shrugged. “It’s a secret."_ _  
_ _  
__Ken pursed his lips. He watched him scribble some more, getting away  from him._ _  
_ _  
__Ken shuffled to the other end of the log. He picked up a pebble and threw it towards the open space. The only sound was the rock hitting the ground. He hated to relate that sound to their relationship._ _  
_ _  
__Ravi closed his notebook. He looked to Ken who was sitting a way off, he slid closer, "I bet you didn't know this place exists." His arm hung lightly across Ken’s hip._ _  
_ _  
__Ken returned a faint smile, "No. I didn’t."_ _  
_ _  
__Ravi bumped his fist against Ken’s temple, "Pabo, how could you not know? It's on your school map."_ _  
_ _  
__Ken clamped his hand over Ravi’s jaw. He squeezed and molded his pointy chin playfully,  “ You're too good at finding secret places. Do you have any place like this at your school? Any pretty girls you’ve brought there?"_ _  
_ _  
__“No. Never.” Ravi caught his hand. “You’re the only one who knows.”_ _  
_ _  
__Ken withdrew his hand, broke contact with his shining eyes._ _  
_ _  
__"Besides, this is my favourite place."_ _  
_ _  
__Ken was about to ask why, but he did not want to meet those eyes that were filled with expectation for something that Ken could not give. Ken also liked to think that he was the reason why he loved this place… His eyelids grew heavy when the dusk began its descent. His eyes were pried open again upon feeling something weighing down on his lap. Ravi had his eyes shut already, his mouth slightly hanging open, ever so inviting. Ken bent down, inhaling his exhaust, everything about him was lovely. His face was so near... their lips would touch if Ken leaned closer… Ravi yawned. Ken fell back, trying to give off an aura of nonchalant._ _  
_ _  
__Ravi sprung straight up, "Let's go, pabo.  It's getting late."_ __  
  
If Ravi noticed what Ken had attempted earlier, he did not acknowledged it. He pulled Ken’s outstretched hand instead and held onto his hand. They trekked back the way they had came in disappointed silence.  
  
“You look distressed,” says N.  
  
“Acting is tiring,” said Ken.  
  
N hands him his water. Ken can be honest with him like he did before, but he can tell that Ken will likely to keep his feelings towards Ravi close to his heart. “Are you mad at me?”  
  
“Why should I be?” Ken would not touch his water.  
  
“Because I’m with your boyfriend as much as you do. And at this point, I know him as much as you do because I am him.”  
  
“Fuck off, N.”

“You don't have to be jealous. He loves you, not me.” N stares at the floor.  
  
“You don't get it. Ravi’s more complicated than you think.”  
  
N grabs his water back. “You’re the complicated one. Why are you so insecure?” He drinks a big gulp of water.  
  
“I was scared.” Ken bites his lips, as if he said the wrong thing. “I’m not anymore.”  
  
N tiptoes towards him tentatively like he is approaching a flighty kitten. He takes one of his hands in his. “I will make Ravi go back to you. He will never leave you with or without me anyway.” His eyes are unwavering.  
  
Ken tries to pull back. N holds him in place. “You deserve better, Ken.”  
  
Ken’s eyes widen. “I'm not Jihwa. You are feeling bad for a fictional character that Ravi created. I'm not her.”  
  
“To Ravi, you are. You mean the most to him.  
  
“Ravi is the writer. And he knows better than anyone. Jihwa belongs to Wonshik. Ken belongs to Ravi.”  
  
Ken grabs N’s wrist with his free hand. “That's messed up. You aren't really Ravi just because you play his younger self. You don't know what he wants. No one does.”  
  
N lets go of Ken’s hand. His index finger brushes along the edge of the script. “I learn a lot every time I read the script before acting the character out. The more I read it, the more I know what happened to Ravi, and the more I know why he did each thing. The new shoes fit better the more I wear them. I know how his mind works.”  
  
Ken scoffs. “His memoir is fictional. This is not really what happened.”  
  
“But the people are real. That's what matters.”  
  
“You think you’re a psychologist now? I'm done here.”  
  
N huffs. “I'm not done with you. Your flight-or-fight system has been activated because I'm dangerous. And you are running-”  
  
Ken throws N a middle finger before slamming the door shut behind him.  
  
“-away.  
  
“You are running away, Ken.”

 

 

**Market**

 

The barbecued beef smokes the air in the market, overwhelming the tteokbokki and spicy fried tofus being pushed around on the iron flat. The aroma of spices hang above the families and couple lingering around the plastic tables and chairs.

Ravi stirs his beef braise soup with his chopsticks with his good arm so the chili paste would soak every molecules of his food.

Ken reaches over to take the spice from him. Ravi doesn’t relent.

“Stop it. Your stomach is going to hurt. Are you trying to kill yourself?” asks Ken sternly.

Ravi puts down the jar. He slurps on the bean thread noodles quickly and ends up choking.

“Are you okay?” Ken’s frown grows more prominent.

Ravi waves his hand. He takes the tissues from Ken’s hands to wipe the soup dripping down his chin. “What did you do when I was working?” he asks after his coughing ceased.

“I went to the park with Hyukkie.” Ken puts on a smile for him. “The park was huge. We tried bird-watching but then it rained. We got hungry and ate grilled ducks.”

Ravi bursts in smile. “Sounds like a blast.”

“I would ask you to come with us if you weren’t busy.”

“Oh, Jaehwannie. I won’t be busy any time soon.” Ravi tilts the soju bottle towards his glass. He drains it in one shot. “I’m going out of work now everyone thinks I’m having a scandal with N.” He pours another glass and empties it. He cringes. “Sorry, Jaehwan. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Workplace dramas are boring.”

Ken touches Ravi’s hand. He saw the way Ravi rushing out to stop N from leaving the crew’s dinner. He also witnessed that N shook Ravi off. Since he couldn’t figure out how he felt about their tension, he willed himself to stop replaying that scene over and over in his head. “You’re going to get sick.”

Ravi slams the bottle down. “The art director will be the third person leaving the job because of N.” He buries his hands in his face. “People can be so cruel.” He picks up the bottle again. “We’re going back to Seoul early.” He fills up the third glass.

Ken grabs for Ravi’s glass. He drinks it. Ken snatches the soju bottle and drains the rest. “I’d rather you punch me to make you feel better.”

“You know I won’t do that.”

“And you know I won’t really let you.”

Ravi grimaces. “Don’t joke around like that.”

“I’d stop joking after you picked yourself up.”

“I will tomorrow.” Ravi takes up his chopsticks and slurps on his warm noodles.

“I can ask Hongbin to be the new art director.”

“Don’t.” Ravi looks at Ken sternly.

“You probably wanted him in the beginning anyway. He matches with your artistic vision and he knows your story very well. Your ideas won’t piss him off. You guys think the same.”

Ravi’s gaze blackens. “We are not the same.”

“You both think that you owe each other. You guys still care about each other. It’s a good sign.”

“You don’t get it. We had the worst break-up of the century. I can’t talk to him again.”

“I thought our break up was the worst.”

“Jaehwan…” His name sounds like a warning, telling Ken off of a territory that he does not belong. He would never belong to Ravi wherever he is.

What did we have, Ravi? What were we?

Ken swallows his questions. He knows the answer already. Ravi would tell him that he loves him over and over again, though Ken won’t believe his words.

 

 

The box of pills rest wordlessly on Ken’s laps. He crosses his ankles and leans back into the bench,waiting for Ravi to finish his nasty business in the washroom. He warned him that spices and his stomach wouldn't get along. The birds sleep and no one shuffles in the small park that comprises of low green bumps and a swing and a slides in a sandbox. Only the wind whistles against his freezing ears. The sole street lamp around is a few meters away. The yellow beam barely reaches him. The edge of the light source touches him like a ghost’s fingertips. Goosebumps spread up and down on Ken’s arms.

Something soft lands on Ken’s laps and he screeches. A hand clamps on his open lips and his eyes are bulging from his eye sockets. His teeth instinctively clamps onto something meaty. Something howls next to his ears.

“Let go, Ken. I’m not a kidnapper,” says the deep voice. When Ken finally releases him, Ravi curls into a ball lying down.

Ken slaps the head lying on his laps. “Served you right. It’s so creepy here.”

“Karma for asking stupid questions.”

Ken hits him again. “Stupid questions? I was serious.”

Ravi holds onto his wrists. “I’m serious too. I loved you, and I still do.”

Ken pulls his hands from Ravi. He drops the painkillers onto his chest. “Shit. I forgot the water.”

Ravi cups Ken’s cheeks in his palm. “I don’t need water to live; I need you.”

Ken ignores his cheesiness. He rips two pills out of the foil pack to pop them into Ravi’s mouth.

Are you mad at me?” asks Ravi.

Ken blends into the silence all around him.

“You don’t believe that I love you.”

Ken captures his hand and brings it back to Ravi’s side. “It’s kind of hard to believe that you’ve always loved me after you left.”

Ken hates that Ravi now stares at him with hollow pupils, like he is beholding the old Ken. Back in that evening, Ravi was lying on the couch just like this, head in Ken’s laps. Ken was humming to a ballad song on the television. His hands flipped through the travel magazine advertising Hawaii being an ideal honeymoon spot. He could feel the hot sands digging into his toenails. That would happen one day, Ken promised himself. His fingers ran through the soft black threads of his lover’s hair. Once an investor picked up Ravi’s script and make it to a movie, Ken would pack their bags right away. He could not recollect the last time they had a trip together. Or ever going out on a date. Absent-minded, his eyes landed on the Cartier rose gold rings on the left page. His heart thumped hard against his chest. Though they could not afford them right now, he could not help but heard the confetti booming and arching over the two grooms arm-in-arm striding down the aisle. Telling them-

“Congratulations, N,” said the music program host. Slips of golden confetti fluttered around the tall singer in the middle of the crowded stage. His eyes smudged with damp eyeliner.

Ken’s heart soared higher when N held his first trophy that embodied his three years of hard works on stage and many years of polishing his dance moves and musicality as a poor trainee. Ken would have leapt on his feet if there wasn’t Ravi’s head weighing down on him. He saw Ravi watching his happiness blooming.

Ravi’s eyes looked haunted like he does at this instance at the park on the bench.

Ken remembers the next morning. Half of the drawers were pulled apart and Ravi’s clothes and socks and colognes fell over. Ravi told him that he couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t drag him down anymore. How long could he leech off of Ken? Ravi shoved all of his forty-seven rejection letters in his suitcase. He kissed Ken on the forehead. He apologized over and over.

Ravi wipes the tears off his nose. “Ken?”

Those tears pour forth along with a single realization. Ken gets it now. It all makes sense somehow. Everything bad happened because of N.

Ken pushes Ravi off of him. “You couldn’t stand being the loser, so you left me.”

Ravi wouldn’t look at him.

“N’s always your first priority. Can you really love someone else?”

Ravi rubs his shoes on the pavement. A guy who`s good with words suddenly lost the war of tongues.

“You’ve always wanted him, but you don’t want to admit it.”

Ravi whipped his head up. He clings on Ken’s shoulders. “No. I don’t. It’s you. It’s always you.”

Ken stands up. “You don’t make sense. I never felt loved when I was with you. I’ve always cared for you more than you cared about me.”

“I was there for you when your mom attempted suicide. I was there when your dad kicked you out. You were the one I wanted to be with.” He holds on to his shoulders. “I was fucking dumb, okay? I just wanted to get famous fast and beat him, I should have known better.”

Ken shakes him off. “I should have known better too.” Years pass, it is his turn to leave.

 

**_Lost Land_ **

 

Under the rain, Wonshik says goodbye to Ken.

Under the roof of the bus stop, Wonshik folds the umbrella. Ken catches up to him. His hair is damp and sticking to his forehead. Wonshik is dry throughout.

“I told you to wait up,” says Ken.

“I wish I had a car. It would be so much easier for you,” says Wonshik.

“Not this bullshit again.”

Wonshik memorizes the droplets sliding off Ken’s cheeks. He hides his hands behind his back. “I’m serious. I’m not the guy you should be with. You deserve to be with someone who can love you with their whole heart.”

“You have someone else.”

Something sharp slides its claws into the layers of tissues that protect him. Wonshik stays quiet. He won’t defend himself. It won’t do them any good. How can he explain to him about Hakyeon? He cannot tell him how he truly feels while he fails to understand it himself.

He lets Ken pounding his fists on his chest. He deserves to be hurt over and over. “So you do have someone else. I hate you, Kim Wonshik. I hate you so much.” He clings on his denim jacket.

Wonshik has to go when the bus arrives. He will let Ken think that this is just another of their rough patch and they will be back together tomorrow. He will show up to their apartment with his favourite strawberry cheesecake. He will have to let Ken hope, so he will never forget about Wonshik.

Ken doesn’t see Wonshik again until five years later.

“Cut,” says the director on set under an umbrella.

Staffs rush into the bus stop to put towels around Eunji---the actress playing Jihwa. While they all fuss around her. N wipes his face with the back of his hand. They are raindrops. They are tears. He can’t tell. But his heart clenches so tight that he can’t breathe. At the moment, N and Ravi share the same senses, the same memories; he finally knows how much Ravi loves Ken. It is not something trivial that N can deny over and over. Do you regret it? He wants to ask Ravi. How can you still love him after all these years? Why did you leave him when you loved him until it hurts?

This is a love runs so deep that Ravi can’t escape from, no matter how hard he tries to let go of the past. N suddenly has a hard time walking upright. He doesn’t know who he feels more pity for, Ken, Ravi or himself.

N opens his plastic umbrella and marches over to the makeshift tent across the street. A car honks at him but he can care less. Ravi perches on his director chair. He listens close to his phone. He dials on his phone again. Then he glares at it. His ears are all red. No matter how hard his fingers punches his phone, it seems like nothing shows up, basing on his clouded expression. Was he even paying attention to N’s heartbreaking performance? Though it probably hurts to witness his own dark history playing out in front of his eyes.

Ravi glances up from his phone. “You did pretty good back there. I got tears in my eyes.”

“Thanks.” N takes a seat next to him. “Who were you calling?”

“Ken. He didn’t pick up.” Ravi’s phone vibrates. He unlocks his phone to check his message. “Shit. He went back to Seoul.” His fingers dance on the screen. He doesn’t get his reply right away.

“You really love him.”

Ravi’s smile is light like candle flame, wavering

But whatever N says next won’t be pleasant. “Aren’t memoirs just fictions?” He challenges Ravi like Ken asked him the same question. “They are based on true story, but they aren’t all true.”

Ravi spins his phone between his fingers. “They aren’t all fake either.”

“Only you would know. Be honest with him.” N can’t stop what he’s saying. He has been thinking that he would help Ken out ever since he falls deeper into his character. “So he can trust you.”

“I tried.” Ravi peeps through the rain longingly, like he can see Seoul from his chair on a street at Daejeon.

N looks around and spots two staffs whispering. They only look away when he glares at them. “Is it because of me? I’ll go tell him we’re not fucking.”

Ravi grimaces. “I tried that too. He doesn’t believe me. He thinks that I love you.”

That three words came out of his mouth too easily. N’s heart shouldn’t be sinking so fast. “Easy. Just stay away from me.”

Ravi gapes at him as if Nessie the Monster surfaced from the concrete road. “You’re the main character of my movie.”

N wouldn’t look at him. “I don’t have to be.”

The frustrated air goes out of his mouth like exhausts being released through a pipe. “How many time do I have to tell you? You need this for your career.”

“Oh. Please. If you could be successful without me, I can make it on my own too.”

Ravi makes no sound. He is calculating something. “I promise I will make up with Ken. You don’t have to quit. I want to protect your career as much as I want to be with him.”

“Deal.”

Ravi looks surprised.

“If you get back with Ken as soon as we got back to Seoul, I won’t talk about quitting anymore. I will be Kim Wonshik.” N spits on his right palm before extending it to Ravi.

Ravi suppresses a spontaneous smile. It seems like he never forgot their contract ritual. Ravi does the same and signs the promise with his palm.

Looking at his innocent smile, N pretends that it is not his career that is at stake in their sealed promise. He beholds their clasped hands. They promised each other that when Hakyeon went to steal berries at Mrs. Kim’s backyard, Wonshik would guard him under the tree.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, we got a long chapter this week! I think it makes sense to close up the Daejeon episode with all the connecting scenes. Was the trip revealing much to you? How do you think Ravi will win Ken back (if he tries)? Is N really getting Ravi now?
> 
> Please comment, kudos, bookmark, sub if you like the story. Please let me know what you think.
> 
> If it's final exam's seasons for you, good luck! :)
> 
> Your dreamer,
> 
> suzyelf


	15. The Mad Hatter's Guest

_"I watched you as you left but I can never seem to let you go/_  
 _'Cause once upon a time you were my everything/_  
 _It's clear to see that time hasn't changed a thing/" -["Never Forget You",](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTyN-DB_v5M) _ Zara Larsson, MNEK

 

* * *

 

 

**Art Exhibition**

 

She is  a little angel in his life. 

She sends hope to him from Heaven above.

She arrives as a challenge.

  
"‘Hope For Hospital: Calling For Artists To Paint For Ill Children’

by Lee Jaehwan

[…] The contributing artists will draw murals of hopeful symbols in the children's’ rooms, hallways, and operation rooms. “Just something calming for them to look at before their big surgeries,” said Kim Sooyeon, the director of Seoul Outpatient Centre.

The centre continues to search for passionate artists who want to instill hope in the children, many of whom are terminally ill and permanently reside at the hospital. Anyone interested in the project will show their works at an exhibition before commencing the assignments.”

The flower field blossoms on the blank canvas. The pale yellow dandelions concentrate in the centre. The velvet blue lilies give life to the peripheral. At the outermost skirt of the ring of flowers are pale green grass, framing the whole painting.

“It's a flower,” the child says. 

Hongbin nods. “The artist is great.”

She raises her pale finger at him. “You’re the artist.” Her eyes are sharp as knife. She's not a kid that takes any bullshit. 

Hongbin’s face is red hot. He points at her black lace dress. “Nice dress. Where are your parents?”

She looks over to her left at a pair of tall couple as well-dressed as the young girl. They stand over a little boy in the wheelchair. The woman whispers in the boy’s ears. 

“My brother loves flowers. He does all the flowers arrangements our parties.” 

The brother smiles at their direction. The smile can compete with a sunflower. A dying sunflower. 

Hongbin beams back. The boy’s smile retreats. Maybe he realizes that he can never be as wholesome and full of life as he.

“I’m going to buy your painting,” says the child. 

“You don’t have the money.”

She is unfazed of his teasing. “My parents have lots of money. I can buy it.”

Hongbin laughs, but the girl doesn’t. “I’ll give it to you. For free. After the exhibition is done.”

“Really?”

Hongbin nods. “What’s your brother’s name? I’ll sign the back of the painting.”

The girl becomes serious again. “I don’t want your signature. I just want the painting.”

Hongbin hides how stung he is. No one has ever rejected his free signature before. “You’ll sell it for a lot of money with the artist’s signature on it, little girl.” Here he is, arguing with a child and stuffing life hack in her pocket. Why does he even bother? 

“I’m not ‘little gir’. I have a name,” says the girl. “Thank you for the painting.” 

Hongbin watches in amusement as she grabs her black skirt and gives him a courtesy.

The girl stalks back to her family. She only smiles brightly when she chats with her parents. Her world isn’t cold anymore. In fact, she is the source of light for the people around her. They laugh until their stomachs hurt. The little boy’s smile is permanent on his snow-white face.

He is beautiful. It is a shame that Hongbin doesn’t draw anything that dies.

 

 

**Hospital**

 

The tinge of citrus seeps through the fingertips. Ken glides his fingers through the orange peel along the the rhythm to his father’s heart shown on the beeping machine. Beep. He’s still alive.

Ken hands him a slice of orange. He half leans against the blue pillow. The day is bright without warning anyone in the room. His father cringes. The juice seems too wholesome for him. He dabs around his mouth with the tip of a napkin. “Too sour,” he says.

Everything is too sour to him. 

"Jaehwan, your grandma’s eightieth birthday coming up. She wants you to be there.”

Ken would tell him that he's busy like he always did. “Do you want me to be there?”

“She wants to meet your girlfriend.”

Red creeps under Ken’s skin. “I don't have a girlfriend. I will never have one.”

“Then make one.” His father’s brown eyes are paler. Sickness strips colour from a person, though he was already fading from Ken’s life a long time ago.

“You can't make a mom for me. Why do you think I can make a girlfriend?”

“Jaehwan.” His bark comes out as a cough. He covers himself so no one will see his sickness. “I left you alone. Can you return the favor?”

It’s worse than robbing Ken’s grave. He asked him to be back to life for one day from wherever he buried him. Then he will slither back underground where the filth came from after the business is done. Ken splits the fruit in three parts. 

His father has a coughing fist. Ken flinches, though he sits where he is. He’s done running away. He is not the little boy who threw his synthetic wig at his father. Or forced his father to watch him holding hands with Ravi with shining rings around their fingers. But he is not the guy to bring a girlfriend to his family either. “I’ll think about it.”

Ken stiffens when the smooth skin touches his. He is too old to pull away. “Jaehwan-ah. All you need to do is play a role. It’s not too much to ask.” Away, he coughs in his hand. 

His life is short. And his is even shorter to play any part that he sucks at. Ken picks up a shovel and begins digging grave. He peers at the hollow ground, deciding what he should bury along with his father.

 

 

 

**Twosome Cafe**

 

“Let’s talk propreply, Jaehwan.”

“I’m sorry, Jaehwan.”

“I’m an asshole, Jaehwan.”

“Jaehwan.”

“I love you.”

Ken scrolls through ten more messages like that. The last message is two days ago: “Sure. Let’s meet.”

Ken arrives a little early at the Twosome Cafe near Jellyfish. He drinks on his cappuccino, which he has to spit out when an impact hits his shoulders. Someone’s arms squeeze him tight around his waist. “I miss you so much, Jaehwan.” His cidery smell overwhelms the aroma of coffee sticking onto his skin. It’s amazing how he already took something from Ken, then replaces it with something of his own.

Ravi takes a seat across from him. 

He would not order anything. He avoids caffeine as much as he can because he gets addicted to things easily. “The berry smoothie here is pretty good,” says Ken.

“I’ll order later. Jaehwan, I thought I’ll never see you again.”

“I wouldn’t disappear without saying anything, unlike some people.” Ken’s gaze wanders off to the window like he expects the cold rain splatter on the window, but the summer afternoon shines on without his permission.

“I won’t do that again.”

Ken raises his hand, putting the conversation to a stop. “My dad asked me to bring a girlfriend to my grandma’s birthday. She’s been asking for me.” He lowers his eyelids. “I haven’t seen her for a year now.”

"Are you going to bring a girl?” Ravi looks alarmed. “Do you have one?”

“I don’t want to.” Ken glances over to him. “I want to bring you.”

The chair creaks as Ravi lurches forward. “Are you serious?”

Ken draws back from him. “You don’t want to?”

“I want to be there for you. “ His eyes are earnest enough. “But are you ready?”

Ken grips on his coffee cup. “I’m not ready. But I don’t want to live on hiding. I already lost so many things because of… who I am.”

Ravi takes up his hand, Ken doesn’t move away. “You didn’t have to lose me. I was stupid to leave you.” 

“It wasn’t only about you. I want to meet my grandma too. I stopped visiting her awhile back when I got tired of her nagging me to get married.” The image of his father lying in bed haunts him. “She’s getting old. I don’t know how many more times I can see her. 

“But I don’t want to lie. I have to bring her a boyfriend.” Ken is fairly certain that he was making no sense, rambling, though his heart feels otherwise. 

“Thank you for giving me a second chance, Jaehwannie.” Ravi’s clasp tightens around Ken’s cold fingers.

“I’m giving myself a second chance. You’re gone if my grandma doesn’t like you.”

“Does she like guys in a vest. My biceps look great in a dress shirt.” Ravi grins.

“You are lucky if no one throws rice at you. Don’t expect anyone will like us.” A trace of smile appears on Ken’s lips.

“We’re going on a suicide mission. Fun.”

“Does it matter? I’m already dead to them.”

Ravi brings his hand to his lips---they are velvety like rose petals. 

 

 

**Broadcast Station**

 

A plastic folder drops on Leo’s table. The thud jolts him awake in the middle of the night. He can no longer tell the time for the blinds in his bustling workplace are drawn tight, separating him from the real world without being entirely cut off from the outside world. He’s been looking up on another mass shooting at the United States. The ideas of what he is going to write dissolves into the air after the folder interrupted his thoughts.

Leo looks up at Elly. She gives him a nod, telling him to go ahead to flip through it. Leo’s eyes widen as he goes through the pages of proposal. This person is out of their mind criticizing South Korea’s ambiguous, pacifist stance towards China’s expansionism to the South China Sea. “This kid do know that we are a state-subsidized corporation?” 

“This kid is Minah.”

A smile creeps onto Leo’s worried facade; he can’t help it. “What are you going to do with her exclusive coverage?”

Elly walks into his cubicle. She stoops down until her lips are next to his ears. “It’s up to you. I always want you to sit in that room than Minah. Should I pass this onto the boss?”

“You’ll get in trouble too when Minah’s under fire.”

Elly directs his attention to the room next to the one she had been pointing at. “I will get Minah to convince Mr. Choi to approve it. We all know he has a soft spot for rich girls. I will help her out too. Unless you don’t want me to do anything.” Elly presses her fingernails into Leo’s shoulders. “You want me to rip your opportunity apart in the shredder?”

Leo stares at the jumbled words on the paper. The passages are passionate. They have the honest rawness that will make any corrupt politician’s stomach churns. He remembers writing something controversial and sensitive a decade ago. But a kind sunbae warned him against it. His article never got published. It was shredded and deleted off of the database. If it wasn’t for that sunbae, he’d probably end up in  _ Scandal News  _ like Hyuk, digging through trash, buying off interviewees, gathering “insider tips” that are as ridiculous as claiming discovery of rabbit on the moon. And the colleagues in the journalism field would regard you as a loser with no life. 

“Last time you had a brilliant idea with Sojin, it backfired,” says Leo.

“I was trying to help. It’s my fault that you and Sojin couldn't agree with each other?” 

Leo closes the folder and gives it back to Elly. His eyes flit back to his computer screen where the terrorism awaits him.

“Leo,” says Elly in gentler tone. “How many girls are you going to go on blind dates with? You won’t meet a nice woman like Sojin again who accepted you for who you are. You need to do better to be independent from your family. You know that better than anyone.”

"The folder is yours. You can do whatever you like. I don’t care.”

Elly grins. “Perfect.” She pats his cheek. “And you won’t tell Minah that this article is a big mistake? Good. It will all work out for you.”

It’s a gamble, Leo. Are you willing to risk your everything?

 

 

**Leo's**

On weekend nights, Leo does a hundred push-ups, three sets of chin-ups, bench presses, and fifty squats. His flat would trap his salty sweat for forty-minutes. The stink would recede and settle over the next fifteen minutes as the hot water washes his body. His hand mindlessly creeps to his groin. He does not think of anyone he knows. He rather fantasizes a faceless person with toned abs and pecs. After shower, he performs a deep cleansing facial ritual that makes his pale face glows on camera. Like the weather woman, his intelligent gaze and small face contribute to his climbing popularity. In a patriarchal world, a rich girl like Minah still have to work hard to compete with him. He pats his skin softly with a towel. 

Leo finally mounts on his bed at ten o’clock, ready to catch up on sleeps that he lacked on the weekdays. But first, he checks the latest updates around the world on Reuters. His mind organizes a rough draft of a report on blockage in Syria and the missiles testing in North Korea. In half-an-hour, he shuts his eyes for entry to dreamland, but lately, he acquires another bedtime habit.

He clicks on his phone and his voice fills the dark room.

“Morning, Taekwoonie. I miss you.” The baritone voice chuckles without glee. “N asked me to be the art director for his movie. I would have said ‘yes’ right away if that person isn’t in charge.” A wistful sigh comes through the speaker. “To be honest, N has always been the one who raised me up. Are you jealous, Taekwoonie?” Hongbin laughs. “But when I was all alone without anyone around me, I had you. I could only find comfort all those years drawing you. Now that you’re gone, that’s all I do…”

Leo opens the next voice message: “Taekwoonie, I’m going to accept N’s offer. Without him, I wouldn’t have everything I wanted today. This is the least I can do to support him. Will you be there for me when I face Ravi? I thought about it. Maybe I should move to London and live with my annoying cousins until they are done with the movie. I can work over phone and Skype so I’ll never ever have to meet him in person. But I don’t want to be alone.” Leo pictures Hongbin pouting and cracks a smile. “And I hate the rain. And my cousins.” His laugh sounds like coughs, like he’s choking on something. “I would ask you to come with me, but I know you won’t, and I don’t want N to waste his time to find me either. 

“I want you to be there for me, Taekwoonie. I want to show Ravi that I’m fine. I don’t want him to blame himself for how I lost my mind completely.” And then a pause. Leo is about to close the message, but then Hongbin’s voice comes in breathily, as if he is a sinner confessing to the priest at the last minute.

“Have I told you how much Ravi lives like me? We both wanted something in the beginning. We’d fought hard for it. We want to keep it forever. We keep going back to that thing most special to us and won’t let go.

“Reply me, Taekwoonie. Let me hear your voice.”

Leo deletes the messages without calling Hongbin back. He falls asleep thinking about Hongbin but he will never reply. Leo wants to slip out of Hongbin’s world quietly, he doesn’t want to be like Hongbin, nor N, nor Ravi. He is ready to stop playing pretend tea party with the Mad Hatter, before he consumed him. 

Still, everyday, he listens to his voice telling him his day. Weeks have past, and it became his routine. But one day, he has to delete Hongbin without listening to him. He is Leo, not the Taekwoonie that Hongbin knows. And Leo doesn’t need Hongbin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I thought there have been hints that Leo might eventually want a break from Hongbin, but what do you think?
> 
> How do you like the new characters introduced here; there were Seongi and Ken's dad? What troubles do you think they will bring? XD
> 
> If you like the story, please kudos, sub, and bookmark. Comment to let me know what you think of this story at this point. 
> 
> Your dreamer,
> 
> suzyelf


	16. The Midnight Angel

**Hospital**

 

"You’re a brat,” says Hongbin. Lightly, he cradles Seongi’s head that’s buried in his stomach. 

The girl hiccups, her red eyes peer through the thick glass that separates them and her brother. No flowers in sight, except for the frail boy and his breathing mask and the life supporting machine. 

“I’m sorry,” says Seongi. “It was an accident.”

It wasn't an accident. Hongbin saw.

He wipes the tears off her puffy cheeks. She looks up at him fearfully. What for? He's not her parents or God that holds judgements and makes the final sentence. He is a passerby stumbling upon an unfortunate event. He is an empathetic passerby.

The voice below him gurgles. Something about a dream. Something about a secret flower field up on the northern mountain. “Just like in your painting, Hongbin-ssi.” She dreams of a sea of lavender that the children can get lost in.

The breathing mask is condensed with carbon dioxide. He looks suffocated instead of breathing free.

She tells Hongbin that she was picking a flower in that vast field. The flower was her brother. The stem was the cord that connecting him to the supplement tank. So it was no accident.

Hongbin understands that she wants the most beautiful thing to herself, especially the most gorgeous thing in its prime time. He was dying anyway. If she plucks him off the ground. He will live by her side forever.

“Seongi.”

Seongi glances past Hongbin’s stomach. She doesn’t break into a run into the arms of the woman calling her. 

“Seongi.” Her voice breaks like water past the dam. She walks quickly past Hongbin. The brief glances exchanged between them will save a load of troubles for Seongi: he is telling the woman “no.”

Her charging stance relaxes. She holds her shoulders lightly; both of them will rive if she asserts more force. “Why?” She brushes past her hair gently. Her voice softer.

“Minah unnie.” She buries her face in her shoulders to stiffen a howl. “I’m sorry.

“I killed him.” 

 

 

The coffee cups warm their hands. The pink ugly chairs in the hospital corridor are hard on their backs, but they barely notice.

“You’re Hongbin,” says Minah. “I heard so much about you from my sister.”

“I didn’t know she has a pretty sister.”

Minah cracks a smile; it quickly dissipates. “Those two hated each other since birth. They became best friends after he got sick. Ironic, isn’t it?” 

“Maybe they never did hate each other. They were playing a game.”

“Or they are playing a game right now. They’ll go back to hating each other once he gets better.” Minah stares at her cup. She is finding assurance that he will indeed get better.

“It makes sense that they will go against each other; they’re both so strong.”

Minah smiles for the second time. “I’m always the weakest one in the family. I’ve never seen my parents cried in front of my brother. Not once. I’m really different from the rest of them.” She looks over to Hongbin. “Thanks for being around Seongi. I’m so busy at the broadcast station. I can only come by after midnight.”

The Midnight Angel---Hongbin tries to hold on to that nickname. The name fits for someone who protects people while no one looks. His life is being touched by the Midnight Angel obviously. 

Hongbin likes the idea. A lot.

Minah smiles at him again. Hongbin’s heart trembles as he memorizes her features for another painting in his collection.

 

 

**Hongbin’s**

 

The ringing of the bell sounds like rounds of bullets attack Hongbin’s apartment. Hongbin groans in his bed and wrinkles his bedsheet and blanket. He stuffs his ears with his pillow. It’s just Ken. He can go away. He cocoons himself all around, and he only pokes his nose out to breathe a little through his thick blanket.    
  
“Hongbin,” says the shrill voice on the other side of the door. The early morning visitor bangs on the door and sounds determine to shred the door down with pure will. “Hongbin-ah, open the door.”   
  
Hongbin’s eyes shoot open. Crap, that is not Ken. He scrambles out of his bed. And a draft of wind hits his naked torso. He shivers and stalks back towards the bed. He buries his front in the blanket. Bam. Bam. Bam. The visitor is going to wake the neighbours up and the cops will be here in five minutes. Hongbin groans. He rolls around to wrap himself in his blanket then gets up again. He throws open the door and is about to yell when Leo falls all over on top of him.    
  
“Now you decided to show up in fucking three in the morning,” says Hongbin. “Am I just some booty call to you?”   
  
Leo pushes him back, indicating he heard his cursing. “I don’t just like your ass. I like you too,” says Leo with a slur.

“God, you’re so annoying and beautiful.” Hongbin opens up his blanket to bundle them up. Hongbin jolts awake a bit when something soft and warm spreads from his chest to the rest of the body. Plus some stink of alcohol reeks from Leo sticks on him. “Hongbin…” Leo slurs his words.    
  
Hongbin drags themselves both to his twin-sized bed. Leo’s weight crushes Hongbin heavily. The smaller man grunts before pushing Leo to his right side. He untangles the blanket to cover Leo up to his chest. He wraps an arm on top of his body. Leo mumbles something about Sojin. Hongbin tells him to shut up, he needs his beauty sleep. The man of his dream keeps his lips sealed for a bit. Though the peacefulness does not last long when he hears quiet sniffing. The sniffs become hiccups, and then sobs. Hongbin jerks his eyes wide. He does not believe his ears so he has to witness Leo’s frowns and feels his heaving chest under his arm. Hongbin pulls him close to himt. He hums a soft tone that his dad sang to him when he was young. The singing and the crying weave a horror story soundtrack. Hongbin sings himself to sleep.   
  
Hongbin must have slept for an hour or so when he is woken up by something soft tracing patterns on his back.   
  
“They can’t get over how I chose the path of a broadcaster. I can’t be a public servant that they always wanted me to be.” Leo sounds more sober than before. “Who knows that their precious quiet son wants to be on TV?” His chuckles echo sadly in the dark room. “I don’t want to be with a girl. I want to live my life the way I want. They want their only son marrying a nice girl. I don’t blame them. They think their son is the hidden gem that everyone should sought after.” Leo sighs. “The girl I got set up with today was so annoying. She asked me if I have a house already. None of her business.” Another sigh. “I miss Sojin. The only other person who wants me is a crazy person. How can they not see that?”   
  
Hongbin keeps his breath shallow, his back is still turned to him.    
  
Leo lays his cheek against his bare back. “It’s hard to stay single. They won’t ever leave me alone. I should just settle down with a plain girl. I will go on to live my normal life.”   
  
Hongbin flips around on his side. In the darkness, he presses his hand to the bed to resist stroking his hair, telling him that he wouldn’t be content being an anonymous, average person, being lost in the stream of people. Leo moves an inch away from him and turns his back on him. 

He is tempted.

Hongbin throws his arms all over him. “Pretend you’re leaving me a message.”   
  
“Lee Hongbin, you already knew that I keep going back to you because I’m lonely. I don’t really like you.”   
  
“You’re lying and I don’t care,” says Hongbin. He wills his voice not to shake so he can talk some sense into his boyfriend. “You love how crazy and unpredictable I am. It’s much better than your boring, goal-oriented life. Or some plain girl who you’ll have to marry one day.” He leaves a tender peck on the back, telling him that he’s there for him.   
  
Leo clings onto him tighter. “Exactly. You’re not a woman, you can’t give me what I want.”   
  
Hongbin would ask him “what about love?”. But he’s not that delusional to think that it’s important to him. He just wants his Taekwoon to be around.

 

 

Hongbin wakes up to the whirring sound of the coffee machine. The salty smell of buttered bagels had coaxed him out of his bed. He hauls himself on a stool. “I have bagels at home?”

Leo plucks out two breads out of the toaster and lays them on the plates. He pushes them to Hongbin. “I found them at the back of your freezer. They expired last month.”

Hongbin spits out the chewed bits in his plate. 

Leo cringes. “Eat your food properly. They are still edible.”

Hongbin bites on the crispy bread. The butter melts on his tongue. 

“Did you brush your teeth yet?”

Hongbin ignores his nagging and devours his breakfast quickly.

 eo nods his head over at the paintings burying the couch. “What are all that for?”

Hongbin wipes his sticky hands on his pajama pants, he got another frown from Leo. He takes Leo’s wrist to pull him along towards his mini exhibition. He points at the centrepiece. It is the blue sketching of Taekwoon running towards the finish line. “You were part of my last exhibition. You are so beautiful.”

Leo runs his hands over the lines that make up who he is. “I know how good looking I am but I never liked running. My parents thought a few medals would look good on my portfolio.”

“That doesn’t matter now.” He put two hands on Leo’s tensed shoulders. He levels himself at his eye-level. “You’re going to be a part of my portfolio that I’m going to show Ravi. I haven’t showed him my stuff for years, he better likes them. I think he will fall for you.” 

“Why do you like me?”

Hongbin's gaze falls on the painting. “Look at you. What not to like about you?”

“That’s just a drawing. You were the one drawing me.”

Hongbin’s index finger traces Leo’s real neckline lightly. “How do you know that you’re not the one I like? I have to like you to create a masterpiece. You are a beautiful inspiration.” 

Leo puts up his hands. “Your pick-up line isn’t working. You don’t have to like me to draw me like a sex god. You can just like the concept of me.”

Hongbin dares to take a step forward. “Real or not. You came to me on your term. You’re still here with me. That’s enough for me.”

Leo stares at his portrait again. Hongbin smirks. “I don't mind that you came to me because you’re lonely. I am too. I'll always be available for you.” He stares into his eyes earnestly. Leo looks off again. Hongbin knows that he has him. He had him all along. 

“I will give one drawing to you. Pick one.” 

“I don't want anything.” Leo moves away and occupies an armchair instead. “What are you going to say when you meet Ravi? Are you going to tell him you went crazy because of him?”

Hongbin doesn’t look at him. “No point telling him that. He probably knew already. I'll just do business with him.”

“How can you be so sure that he’s moved on?”

“Because I'm not the one he's in love with.” He grins. “We were never meant to be.”

“We are not meant to be either, but I’m here.” Leo lowers himself on the floor again. He slides in closer until his fingertips touch the back of Hongbin’s hand.

“You’re a rebel. Like playing with fire.” Hongbin curls his fingers into his. He can’t really suppress his smile either. “What are you going to do with girls now?”

“Nothing. I’ll live and die alone.”

“Are you going to tell them that you’re gay?”

"There’s no point.” Leo’s answer misses no beat. “I’m old enough to decide for myself.”

“You have to tell them eventually. They won’t let you off the hook. You’ll have to have a wife and kids one day. I thought you like that. To keep up with your perfect man image.”

“I wanted that. It didn’t work out.”

“‘What are you going to do?’

“They can’t do anything about my life when when I’m rich and famous.”

Hongbin leans over to peck his lips ever so lightly. “You’re so naive. You’re working hard for them, not for yourself.” Hongbin spots Leo flinching, so he breaks gaze with him and his eyes land on the drawing of Taekwoon. “What about you? What do you really want?”

Leo grabs Hongbin’s jaw between his fingers so he will look at him again. Him only and no one else. Hongbin lets Leo’s warm mouth envelope him, swallowing him whole. He’s willing to share the heat. His hands wrinkle his shirt by running up and down Hongbin’s side, trying to hold something tangible. A draft of wind hits the slit of Hongbin’s bare back as his shirt rides up to reveal half of his back. 

“I want you,” Leo says.

Hongbin chuckles. “Yeah, I got that. What else do you want?”

Leo’s hands sneak upon his abs like tomb thieves creeping into the forbidden dark. Hongbin’s heart beats faster. “Stop talking,” says Leo. “You just want my body. That’s all you draw all day.” He lifts Hongbin onto the couch. He yelps from his hidden strength as Leo pins him under by his hip. His shirt comes through his pale torso and over his head in a split second. He leans towards him to recapture his lips. Hongbin grunts but he stops breathing. Leo grabs Hongbin’s wrist and stretches his arms above the crown of his head. “Try to touch me back. I’m real. I’m better than your drawings.” Leo’s plump lips are moist next to Hongbin’s burning ear. “You can’t fuck paper, can you?”

“I don’t just want sex. I want you.”

As if his words break the spell. Leo sits upright. “But you don’t know me.”

“What couples start off knowing each other? What’s the fun in that?”

“You’re different from other people. I’m not the person in your drawings. He’s someone so perfect that I can never be. It doesn’t matter how much you wish it.”

“I don’t wish it. I believe in you.” Hongbin’s eyes are unwavering.

Leo says nothing.

“You encouraged me through hard times. I will do the same for you. It doesn’t matter if you were real or not.”

Taekwoon, can you hear me? All you need to do is to be good to me.

Leo swoops back in and kisses Hongbin deeply. 

 

 

**Broadcast Station**

 

Leo watches Minah walking out of the conference room. He suppresses a smile. His hands clutch onto the brown bag and the latte. The last time he bought these for her was when she was accepted to the same department as he. And the last time he treated her to grilled beef was last month, after she finished her long special segment on air. Everything was fine and burst with rainbows. And Leo felt content. Afterall, he had been the one who had inspired her to go to journalism school.

He waits for her to approach her desk and walks straight to him. He mirrors her frowns. 

“You were crying?” Leo quirks his brows.

“Shut up, sunbae.” She slams the files on his chest. She hunches over in her seats. Anyone can detect the dark despair enveloping around her. The coffee and cookies are neglected. “I envy you, sunbae. You always know what you are doing with your life. You even fought against your parents to go after your dream job.”

“I’ve been doing midnight broadcast for the past three years. That’s trouble.”

“But you aren’t being suspended.” Minah takes a sip of the sweet drink.

“How long?” Leo will push down the joy or whatever nasty expression that threatens to break out of him. 

“Two weeks.”

Leo grips onto the desk. “Enough for a vacation.”

“Not long enough to punish. They still want to keep me around.” Minah glances at him. She holds the universe of questions in that long stare. Those eyes ask him if he’s satisfied. If he’s happy yet.

A small dent of a smile dances on Leo’s facade. “Good for you. Bring me a souvenir.” Leo is about to walk away briskly, keeping his head held high and his poker face together.

“Sunbae.”

Leo stalls. She hands the cookie back. “I don’t feel like eating. You can have it.”

He takes it back---a part has been bitten off.  “You’ll be fine,” he says.

Leo strolls to the hallway. He throws the sweet snack down the trash bin, disgusted by her leftover cookie. 

 

 

 

**Hospital**

 

“Why does the angel bleed?” asks Seongi.

Hongbin should have snatched that drawing of the angel dying under the hundred piercing spears from Seongi’s hands. Red is everywhere---on the weapons, on the shining gold garment, on the snow-white feathers. Her arms are stretched out against the black night, leaping off to the starless night. Her face is distraught, devoid of the peace that heavenly creature suppose to possess.

She looks like Minah.

When she came to him, she bled internally. He could see through her flushed face.

“Backstabbing is a crime, Seongi,” Hongbin tells her.

Have you wondered why my name is Minah? Not Seonah or Seonri? 

“Minah isn’t really your sister, Seongi.”

The little girl puffs out her cheeks. “You’re not funny. Minah loves me and I love her. We are real sisters.”

You love them and they love you. You guys are real family. No matter what they say.

I’m not ashamed that I was adopted, said Minah indignantly. I just had to work harder than everyone else.

I understand how Leo sunbae feels. I don’t care for the competition at all. Anyone who has merit will get to that place eventually. I pity him.

Hongbin tsked. Leo won’t like it if he heard the word “pity”.

Minah shrugged. I’m going for a vacation, Hongbin. For a while, I don’t have to say no to those greedy people.

Rejecting people is the hardest thing to do, Hongbin. I couldn’t reject my family even if I tried. We love each other so much. How dare they take our love aa a joke?

Love is never a joke, Minah.

My Midnight Angel, don’t weep. I will avenge you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> The story has taken a slight turn since a few chapters before, how are you guys while following it? What do you think Hongbin will do next now that he is getting a fuller picture of the real Leo?
> 
> What do you think of the bet b/w Ravi and N? Is it really wise to gamble with RavixKen's future? 
> 
> Let me know in the comment down below. Kudos and subscriptions are much appreciated.
> 
> Happy summer!
> 
> -suzyelf


	17. Family Disunion

**Hospital**

 

“He will never see it. There’s no point.” Yellow paints splatter on Hongbin’s jeans, the tiled floor, and the completed flower mural in Seonkwang’s room. 

Hongbin clasps Seongi’s small, trembling hand. He stooped down to the child’s height. He has nothing better to tell her other than her brother will appreciate the artwork from above.

Seongi’s eyes are blood red, though no tears come. Her painted fingers rub against the painting, smudging the first layer of the flower. “I really want him to see it. Why didn’t you paint it faster?” She screams at Hongbin.

Hongbin would tell her “I’m sorry for your loss”; he withholds those words too. He has nothing to be sorry for. Seonkwang was dying. His end did not surprise Hongbin one bit. It didn’t surprise Seongi either. But she has to grieve. He brushes her bangs out of her eyes. She is a pretty little thing that is beaten by the unfairness of her life. Why did it have to be her little brother? Why not the others? Why me witnessing her pain?

“How come you never visited my brother?” Seongi asks.

“I did once.”

“You always watched him from the outside. How can you draw him properly if you never got close?”

I don’t want to get close to him. Dying things are not pretty. They are horrible.

Hongbin doesn’t tell her that either.  “I have my imagination.”

Seongi scoffs. “That’s not the real thing.”

“How long are you going to be depressed?” he asks.

Soengi scorns, reprimanding him for asking a stupid question. “Forever.”

Forever is an awfully long time for a pretty little thing.

  
  
  
  
  
  
“How long are you going to draw him?”   
  
“Forever.”   
  
Hongbin glares at Seongi. They are still at the hospital. They still sit side-by-side at the foot of the wall after one week past. Today, Hongbin has started on a fresh new wall.   
  
His attention is drawn away from the wall, however. He looks down on her chibi drawings. Her brother and she race across a simple-looking flower field. Cartoon butterflies and bees encircle the siblings. The brother is no longer on a wheelchair. They are happy.   
  
“Can you draw me a hamster? I don’t know how to draw animals.”   
  
Hongbin takes the pencil and sketchpad from her. He draws a few close-knitted circles. “There you go, sweetie.”   
  
Seongi gags. “You’re an artist?”   
  
“It matches with your drawing.”   
  
Seongi slams her sketch against Hongbin’s arm. “You suck.”   
  
“You bet he does.”   
  
Hongbin looks mortified when Leo strides in.   
  
“So you’ve been hanging out here?” Leo raises an eyebrow at Seongi. “I’m Leo,” he tells her.   
  
“I’m Bang Seongi.” She lifts the corners of her skirt and dips a curtsy.   
  
A fond smile blooms on Leo. It is a dazzling one that Hongbin never saw. “You grew up so fast. You were a baby last time I saw you. How old are you?”   
  
“Ten. Who are you?”   
  
“Minah’s old classmate. Now I’m her sunbae at work.”   
  
Bang Minah. Her name tastes foul on Hongbin’s tongue when it came out of Leo’s mouth.   
  
“What are you going to draw on the wall?” Leo asks Hongbin.   
  
“My brother riding a horse,” answers Seongi. “He never got to learn how to ride but he really loves white ponies.”   
  
“We’re not drawing your brother,” says Hongbin flatly.   
  
Seongi curls her fists. “We are.”   
  
Hongbin bends his knees and clasps her shoulders. His gaze pierces straight through her eyes. “I have enough of your brother.”   
  
Seongi screams. “Get out.” She screeches and punches his shoulders. “How dare you.” She screams and screams and screams, until Leo drags him out of her sight.   
  
“Are you crazy?” Leo asks once they are outside of the room. “She just lost her brother.”   
  
Something wet sticks on Hongbin’s cheeks. He doesn’t moan. He doesn’t sob. He doesn’t look at Leo either. He looks at Taekwoon who was playing basketball. Taekwoon who was drinking bean-paste soup. Taekwoon who was just standing. Only the ghosts of him and Taekwoon playing video games in the living room lingers. The smell of their burned eggs teases his nostrils. Their whispered secrets echo in the stretched corridors.  The last page of Hongbin's sketchbook was a picture of Taekwoon dozing off to dreamland.   
  
All of that feel so real to Hongbin.   
  
“Hongbin, are you listening to me?”   
  
Hongbin finally looks at Leo. His broad palm creeps onto his cheek.    
  
“Leo, you are so unreal.”   
  
  


 

**Jellyfish Entertainment**

 

Hongbin. Pick up the phone, Lee Hongbin.

When N does hear his voice again, it was a voice message: “I’m at the Inner Chamber. You’re too beautiful to find my place.”

N throws his phone down on the long table. His hands grab onto his hair, letting out a silent scream inwardly.

What kind of game are you playing now, Lee Hongbin?   
  
We are suppose to visit the cafe trending on Naver. An contemporary art gallery-slash-cappuccino goodness. We are going to talk about all the artwork you can buy on Ravi’s budget once he becomes the art director of  _ Lost Land. _

N picks up his phone again. He dials a new number. He’s not going to ask how he is with Ken. “Hey, Ravi. I need you.”

N disappeared from Hongbin once. He is not about to repeat the tiresome history of cat-and-mouse.

  
  
  
  
  


**Thirty-Sixth Floor**

 

Hongbin twirls the wine in his glass. He peers over the swirls before taking a small seep. He places it back down next to his plate of fully done steak. Looks like Ravi remember what Hongbin told him once: bloody meat is so not romantic. Hongbin’s smile is faint like the aftertaste of a vanila ice cream. Hongbin lifts his glass to the air, tipping it towards his guest across the long table. “Cheer. To our friendship.” Hongbin finishes his glass.

Ravi leaves his glass untouched. He probably thinks that this set up is a joke, but Hongbin is the host. He would trap is guest on the thirty-first floor in the banquet hall with the silhouette of Seoul beneath their feet as he wishes. Only three candles that shapes like devil’s daggers light up the dim room. The white wax drips on the black table cloth, creating a pattern of a split heart. “How’s the steak?” asks Hongbin.

Ravi still doesn’t say anything. In Hongbin’s mind, Ravi is done speaking to him. He was a discarded toy tossed in a dumpster anyway. The doll actually has a soul and crawls back to him. Pathetic.

Hongbin gets up from his throne. His silky kimono drags flutters around his heels. The fluorescent light from the city lights up his bare torso and traces the dibs in between his abs’ lines. Hongbin places his elbows on Ravi’s chair. His hands cups Ravi’s chin from behind. “I thought you weren’t that important to me. I didn’t know that you were grounding me to what I had. I didn’t know that I was happy with you. I wanted something else so badly. I wanted the perfect man.” Hongbin forces his index finger into Ravi’s lips, prying his teeth open. He picks up a glass of wine and spills it all over his pearl teeth, pink lips, white suit, streams of wine like bloody river flowing through their veins. Hongbin walks away.

He faces a painting on the wall. A boy entrapped in the frame is buried in letters and books. “I thought I didn’t care if I lose you, but I did. I wasn’t a bad guy. You thought you loved me too.” Hongbin walks up to Ravi. “All you want is a perfect story under your control. And I want the most beautiful, flawless world for myself too.

“We are the same person, Wonshikkie. Isn’t it scary?”

 

 

 

**D-Day**

  
  
  


Ken hyung is withering in front of Hyuk’s eyes. 

Ken wrinkles his salmon pinkish dress shirt as he paces back and forth outside of his apartment. Hyuk picked that outfit for him. Ken grinned ear-to-ear. When Hyuk asked him why he was smiling so much, Ken told him that Ravi bought it for him. Before Hyuk can chuck it back to the closet, Ken intercepted it from his hand. The wind brushes through Ken’s hair. The hair that Hyuk carefully gelled and constructed is coming undone. They are still waiting for Ken’s prince that will never show up.

Hyuk grips on Ken’s wrist. He looks back at him. He drags him to the roadside. Ken lags behind him. Hyuk leads him through the cold. He expects him to sticks at one spot, waiting for his pumpkin carriage to appear before twelve. Hyuk hails a cab. He opens the door and pushes Ken in. He recites the grandma’s address perfectly to the driver. His hand locks tight around his wrist.

Ken is about to tell Hyuk something, he has a feeling that his hyung is going to tell him off. But a message tone interrupts whatever he’s going to say. He checks his message, before resigning into his seat. “Ravi is looking for Hongbin right now, with N.” Is that a sigh of defeat over a single syllable? “I guess it’s only you and me.”

Hyuk tries a lame joke or two to get him to smile. Forget about that message. Forget about what that jerk had to say. Forget about Ravi. Ken doesn’t smile. So Hyuk smiles brighter to light up both of them.

 

 

Whoever on Ken’s arm does not mean anything to him, all he has to do is walk through the little kids and their parents all crowd in the peeling and spacious living room. They ought to be hugging their nephew or cousin or grandson, whoever Ken suppose to be to them. But nobody dares to go near him because of the man on his arm. Their gazes linger on Ken longer than he remembers they would.

Hyuk, on the other hand, was smiling on the ride here, now his expression is closed against the world. He did make eye contact with the first person he saw on the way coming in. The person was smiling at him, but his eyes weren’t. He was chatting to Hyuk about the weather, asked about their works. His eyes looked back and forth between Hyuk and Ken. Hyuk gripped his arm tighter around Ken. Ken laid his hand on top of his. Immediately, the cousin said he needed to find the cat and walked away. Ken burst in laughs, making Hyuk giggled.

There’s no cat in this house, Ken told him.

Then they are serious again. The hard gazes would not leave their sides. Ken whispers comforting words, telling Hyuk that it will get better after he met his grandma. Everything will be better after going through Hell. 

Now Hyuk has a taste of what Ken feels, he will run away. “Hyukkie,” Ken says next to his ear. He catches his aunt’s sneer out of the corner of his eyes, and he glares back. “Hyukkie, wait for me here. I will say hi to my grandma for a few minutes, and we’ll leave right away.”

Hyuk looks down at the gift wrapped in red paper in his own hand; Ken can’t recall giving it to him. “You and Ravi hyung bought this?”

Ken nods.

“You guys should give it to her.”

Ken puts out his hand for the gift. Hyuk doesn’t let go of it immediately.

His hand covers Hyuk’s feathery crown. “You can give it to her yourself. She’ll like a good kid like you.”

The first real smile of the whole treacherous night surfaces. It places a collar on Ken’s big black dog that makes his every step heavy. Ken opens his palm. Hyuk’s big hand narrowly fits in Ken’s willowy fingers. They march past the same people who feel less hostiles. They march upstairs. When Ken was young, he walked up the stairs with his head held high next to Hongbin to meet his mother---a  scar that Hongbin wanted to hide. But he’s not Hongbin. Today with Hyuk, he won’t hide.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A lot of things have been happening lately. It's a shame if the Hongbin's storyline went a bit abstract and confusing for you. Please tell me how to make it clearer. 
> 
> Also,Hyuken or Kenvi? :D
> 
> If you are enjoying the story, please comment, kudos, and sub. :) 
> 
> Hope you guys/gals have nice summer days to relax. Don't work yourself too hard!
> 
> -suzyelf


	18. The Thirty-Sixth Floor

**Grandma's**

Ken knocks on the door. His grandma is serene like the marble statue found in Hongbin’s studio. The slanting sunlight penetrates through the white-lace curtain shines on her crown making her hair like the milky way. She grips onto the crane shapes like a swan head. The sunglasses hide her faded eyes. She sweeps the floor in front of her with the stick.

Ken whispers to Hyuk’s ear. “She can’t see.”

“Jaehwannie?” his grandma says.

Ken comes forward to take her hands. “Hi, grandma. How are you?”

Grandma wraps her wrinkly hand on top of his. “I’m happy, Jaehwannie. You got away from your dad, huh?” When no voice replies her, she asks, “Who’s with you?”

Hyuk coughs and clears his throat. His voice is breathy as he introduces himself: “Hi, Grandma.” His tune is elevated and trills. He sounded like a soprano in a choir made up of young girls.

Grandma frowns. She pokes Hyuk’s feet gently with her stick. “Is your friend sick? He sounds like a girl.”

Ken explodes in laughters. Hyuk hits him with the present. His face is burning like wide fire.

“What did you buy me, Jaehwannie?” asks his grandma.

Hyuk gives the present in her hands. She puts the present next to her ear. She shakes it to listens it closely. “Jewellry?” She rips open the paper. She slides her fingers over to the opening of the velvet box. She snaps it opens. The sensitive fingers pad over the soft metal that are bumpy with print. She follows the scales and curve and lands on the tail. She murmurs appreciation to the dragon and the wings of a phoenix.

“Do you like it?” asks Ken.

Grandma nods along. “It’s beautiful. Your girlfriend will like something like this.”

Ken keeps quiet, save for his breathing.

“His girlfriend won’t like it,” says Hyuk hurriedly. “The style is so old. She probably likes some bling bling and Hello Kitty-” He gasps as Ken knocks the wind out of his stomach.

“It’s not old.” Ken glares at Hyuk. “It’s elegant for my grandma. And I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“You never had a girlfriend,” says grandma. She lowers the pretty bracelet in her laps. Though she is blind, Ken still feels like she is staring down at him.

“Sorry, grandma.” His words trail off, so the breaking of his voice would not be obvious.

 

His grandma reaches skyward. Ken leans in and offers his shoulder. “Jaehwan, I will be so happy to know that you’re with someone who loves you before I die.”

“Don’t say things like this,” says Ken. He hates that word. It’s an approaching truth, and it is also a threat, an accusation. How dare you to be out of line? If you love me, you would listen to your family. Shameful. Shameful. Shameful. “Grandma.” Ken speaks louder than before, overpowering the voice in his head.  “I already have someone who loves me. I’m happy with him.” Good thing she is blind. She can’t see how ugly Ken looks.

“Who are you talking about?” She raises her voice. She stabs the wooden floor repeatedly with her cane. “Who is it?”

“I love him, grandma,” says Hyuk. He wouldn’t look at him. “I really, really, love Ken hyung.”

Grandma levels her cane at his chest. Ken blocks the tip with his palm. Clack. The cane comes down on his defensive hand. A strip of red burning and pulsing under his skin reminds him of his place.

“He’s talking to me. Don’t interrupt us.” Grandma takes a breath in between like a swimmer coming out of the water. “You love him. What can you give him? You can’t give him any children.”

“It’s not what I can give; we need each other. He takes care of me every time I don’t know what to do. And I listen to all the troubles. We are brave enough to be here to be judged by his most respected elder.” Hyuk snakes his fingers in Ken’s. “Ken hyung has been hiding from the people he cares about for too long. He wants to see and loves him as your grandson.”

“I’m blind, but I can still see.” Grandma hits the floor with her cane. “Do you really love him, Jaehwan?”

Ken stares back at the younger one. His eyes shift back and forth, clearly nervous about his answer. His heart pounds on his chest. The whole world waits for his answer.

“Yes. I do. I love him, grandma,” says Hyuk.

Grandma shoves the bracelet back in his hand. “I don’t want it anymore.”

“Grandma…”

She clasps her hands in front of her. She can’t see, so she can pretend that tears aren’t streaking down on Ken’s face. He places the bracelet back to the box. “Happy birthday, grandma.

“Thank you.”

  
  
  
  
  


The way he slithered past him, blushing. It was cute. It was rare that something Hyuk did for Ken would resonate deeply in his heart and makes him think of him just a little bit more, like replaying the scene with his grandma again and again in his head. Did he miss his jittery fingers tapping against his straightest dress pants as he proclaimed that he loves him? Did he miss his forced brave smile which his grandma will never be able to see? Did he forget that Ken isn't blind? 

“Jaehwan.” A hand pulls Ken from himself and takes him to the corner of a hallway. The devil breathes venomous words through his ear canals, bouncing off stingingly in his head. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

Ken flings off Ravi’s hand. “Why did you make me wait? You should’ve been the one meeting my grandma, not Hyukkie.”

“‘Hyukkie.’” He spits out that word like he is cursing. “I thought you like me.”

Blood rushes towards his head and he will beat him to death. Ken takes a deep breath. “I do. But you always let me down. Did you find Hongbin?”

Ravi nods. “Thank you, Jaehwan. I’m sorry.”

Seeing Ravi drooping over, looking like a kicked stray dog, wakes up something inside Ken. “I’m sick of being your second, third, fourth priority. You never changed.”

Ravi looks pained without Ken punching him. Of course he has nothing to retort, because Ken spoke the truth.

All Ravi can say is “sorry, Jaehwan” over and over again, but Ken heard enough.

“I will change for you. I promise.”

“And I promise I will be out of your sight. I will not look back on us.”

Ken is sick of his promises.

  
  
  
  
  
  
“Boo.”   
  
Ken jumps on the porch. Under the burning orange light, Hyuk resembles a spirit. “Did you eat yet? I was looking for you all over in the kitchen.”   
  
“Just the kitchen?” Ken pats Hyuk’s full belly. “When's your due date?”   
  
Hyuk flinches away from him. His cheeks turn to red apples.    
  
Ken fishes out the box out of his pants pocket. He shoves the box in his hand. “Thanks for coming with me tonight.”   
  
“No problem,” says Hyuk. He pushes the box back to him.    
  
Ken takes back the box. He opens it up and wraps it around Hyuk’s wrist.    
  
“It's not my style, hyung.”   
  
“But it's expensive.”   
  
Hyuk tries to wrestle it out of his thick wrist. The bracelet is so damned small. “Grandma wants you to give it to your girlfriend. You can give it to someone you like.”   
  
Ken wraps his fingers around his stripped red wrist. “Keep it for me. I don't have anyone I like.”   
  
“Fine. The bracelet is mine; I can give it to the person I like.” Hyuk yanks at it. “Help me out, hyung.”   
  
Gently, Ken twists it out of his wrist. Hyuk slips it around Ken’s wrist instead. “No returning policy,” says Hyuk.   
  
Ken puts it under the light. The dragon hugs the phoenix tight to its chest, though the phoenix is a fragile porcelain instead of a majestic beast. The dragon is dauntless against the burning flame. How romantic it is that they burn together. Ken scratches on the bracelet that is becoming a manacle. He hates it around the wrist.    
  
Hyuk places his hand on top of his bracelet. “Don’t take it off. It’s my gift to you.” He smiles brilliantly.    
  
The burning flames recede, leaving a trace of warm dullness. This bracelet is from Hyuk to Ken now. The beasts are kinder, less frightening.   
  
  


 

**Thirty-Sixth Floor**

 

“How did you find me?”

The piece of paper trembles in Leo’s hand. “The hotel bill you threw out leads me here.” He steadies himself before prancing over to the double bed against the wide glass that displays the evening city. The sky is dyed with indigo blue. The colour mixes with the fluttering curtains.

Hongbin is small in the piles of blankets and pillows, despite the fact that he is nearly six feet tall. Leo sinks into the bed next to him. He strokes Hongbin’s hollowed cheeks. Hongbin turns away from him.

Leo brushes over the charcoal drawings that are strewn across the bed. He barely recognizes himself in those dark red and black thick lines. He always fails to find himself in Hongbin’s drawings.

This is not me. This is not me. This is not me.

Leo crumbles his face in his fist.

“The Midnight Angel found me,” says Hongbin.

Leo hurls the drawing across the polished floor. He hears blood roaring in his ears. He is shaking too much to speak.

Hongbin turns back to him. “Why are you mad at me? You’re the bad guy here.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Midnight Angel found me.”

“Who the fuck is ‘the Midnight Angel’?” Something burns behind his eyes. Leo has no time for Hongbin’s mind game.

“Bang Minah.”

“What about her?”

“Bang Minah, Bang Seongi, and me. We are all so beautiful. But we are ruined by the evils.”

Leo laughs out loud. He creeps onto Hongbin’s bed, soundless like a feline going to attack his owner in his sleep. He grasps onto Hongbin’s shoulder. “Don’t act like you’re all innocent, Hongbin.” He presses down his voice. “No one is.”

“There were children living in an old forest.” Hongbin stares up at the ceiling. “They lived all their lives there. Summer and daytime live there all day long. All they did were pretend-plays. They could be pirates. They could be medieval knights. They could be kings. They could be Alexander the Great. All they needed were branches as their swords.

“But one of them decided to leave.” Hongbin’s whole body shudders with a sigh. “They started to leave one by one. And a boy tried to keep everyone in the beautiful forest. No one listened to him. They didn’t think as one, act as one anymore. The children had their own minds now. They didn’t want to be pretend-knights anymore; they wanted to be the real deal. The boy left behind watched the trees wither.” Hongbin weeps. His hiccups echo in the hollowness. A corner of his mouth lifts. Hongbin’s smile is genuine. He can light up the gloomy room with his dimples if he wants.

“But here’s the catch: no one actually left the forest. All they did was getting lost. And they lost each other.

“The last boy remained at the forest never ever wanted to leave. But the evils still got him anyway. It’s not fair.”

“Everything is unfair,” says Leo. His fingers dig into his bone. “There’s no utopia.”

“I got it now.” Hongbin curls into his blanket, making himself smaller, looking like the boy from the forest. Hongbin sucks in a deep breath, composing himself. “Let’s break up.”

Leo draws an instant blank. Just a few seconds ago he was hearing a nonsensical story, now his senses get even muddier. “I’m not evil.”

“You knew about me being friends with Seongi. And Seongi is Minah’s sister. That’s why you came back to me that night you were drunk.”

“I can get rid of Minah without dating you. Why would I put up with someone I don’t like?”

“You did it to Sojin.”

“So I’m the useless bastard that sleeps with anyone to get what he wants.”

Hongbin doesn’t say anything.

“Alright. I guess I am. I fit the description oh-so-perfectly.” Leo sighs. He looks out to the window over Hongbin’s head. All the strength seeps out of his tired muscles, so he can’t possibly beat Hongbin up. “I don’t want to leave you, Hongbin. I like you too much, even though you’re crazy and making no sense all the time, but I like you.” Leo sucks in a deep breath. “Please don’t make me leave.”

Hongbin throws all of his drawings at him. Paper rains down on Leo one by one. His charcoal face, the perfect Taekwoon, shatters in front of his eyes in pieces.

“Look at you, Leo. Look how ugly you are. Why did you hurt Minah? Did you have to use her dream against her? There’s more precious things out there than your stupid ambition. Why are you making everyone hate you?”

Leo avoids seeing how he looks in his “portraits”. He says on top of his lung, “She’s still not getting the punishment she deserves. She’s still around because of her father. They always know that I’m better than her and everyone else and I deserve the spot I’ve worked for years.” The veins are popping in his neck from over-exertion. “You’re right. I am evil. I’ve been hiding that side of me away from you because I want to be the perfect guy you want me to be. I love you, Hongbin.”

Hongbin grabs a handful of blanket and cries into it. “It’s not about me, it’s you. There’s always someone else who’s going to have more advantages over you. Someone's always going to be in your way. How many more people are you going to hurt? How much more do you want for yourself? What are you going to do to me now that I’m useless?”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Hongbin slumps against his bed. He brushes through the pile of the drawings, before he picks out the drawing that he looked for. “Take this as a goodbye gift.”

Through the blur, Leo makes out his face outlined by pink and light orange charcoal. His posture is upright behind the wide curve desk. It is exactly how he looks like on TV in front of the camera. His face is stoic. Facts spew out of his lips. Those facts always give him comfort. And thrills. There’s nothing more difficult than preserves facts as they are----something that Hongbin doesn’t bother to do. This picture is more real than Leo himself. His fingers crumble the corner. He will never like Hongbin’s drawings. “This is not me. You suck at drawing me.”

“I wish this is you at some point of your life. You look happy.”

I’m happy with you too.

  
  
  
  
“He loves you, Hongbin.”

Hongbin glances at N whose towering over him. He laughs. “Love? You heard us. He’s using me to destroy Minah.”

“You don’t know that. You were just guessing.”

"Minah told me how he and Elly teamed up against her.”

“You should quit being an artist and be a scriptwriter. I don’t see why he needs to be with you to get what he wants. You make things harder for him.”

Hongbin twirls the fold of his blankets. “Why do you think that...he loves me?”

“He didn’t look depressed when we broke up.”

“He’s a good actor. That’s how he got into Sojin’s pants.”

“Sojin let him. He isn’t a great actor. When you broke up with him, it looked like the world was over for him. He didn’t bother hiding how he felt from the moment he walked in. I haven’t seen so many emotion from him at once. I’m jealous, Hongbin.”

“He’s stressed out. It didn’t have anything to do with me.”

“He’s stressed out because of you. We couldn’t find you for two days. You freaked us all out.”

“I made up my mind.”

"You’ll change your mind.” N lies half of his body next to him. He takes Hongbin’s left palm and holds him loosely. He holds his hand long after he thinks that Hongbin fell asleep. “Who was the first boy that left?” asks N.

“You.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you guys are enjoying the hot summer. I hope Hongbin is really working out his issues and also with Leo too, not just by himself. T.T '
> 
> And Ken deserves the best, don't you think so?
> 
> Comment, kudos, subscribe, I'd appreciate the motivation
> 
> Your dreamer,  
> suzyelf
> 
>  
> 
> Q's: If I'm not writing depressing story, what should I write for the summer?


	19. Fired Connection

**Thirty-Sixth Floor**

 

Mindlessly, N walks past the hushed doors of the glowing hotel’s hall and towards the elevator.

You.

Me. I was the one who left first.

N clicks the button. Was that how Ravi feel when N ran off without a word? Did he feel like he was the last boy on earth in that lonely forest that trapped him in? He was too young to run after him.

Maybe Ravi and Hongbin were just cowards.

We are all cowards.

N isn’t fully aware that he’s in the metal box already. Something doesn’t add up. Ravi and Hongbin seemed to be doing fine after he left. He didn’t destroy them as much as they claim he did.

As N cruises past the grand lobby and out in the bright fluorescent light in the foyer burning the darkness, a car drives up and stops in front of him. Ravi is in the driver’s seat.

N gets in without second thought. “I thought you left.”

“I did. I’m back again.” Ravi drives away from the curb and cruises through the parking lot. “How’s Hongbin?”

“He just broke up with Leo. I’ve never seen Leo that heartbroken before.” N glances over to watch Ravi drive. “It’s rare that Leo found some kind of happiness.” Ravi’s hair is disarrayed, a hot mess---a sign that he brushes them back too much out of frustration. N wishes he can talk to the person that pisses Ravi off and tell them to stop. N reaches towards those undone hair and touches air.

Ravi grimaces. “We had a lot of break-ups today.”

N rests his hand on the hand rest. “Did something happen to you too?”

Ravi stops in front of a red light. “I failed our bet.”

It took N few seconds to realize what he meant. Once he does, his hands start shaking. Was this the end that he wanted? “I’m sorry, Ravi.”

Ravi hits the accelerator a little harder than he should. The car jerks. “Don’t be. It’s my fault that I can’t keep my end of the deal. I’m not going to force you to do my movie anymore.”

The rest of the car ride is filled with quietness, because N is at loss of what to say. He should feel relieved that he is not involved in Ravi’s life any longer. He was losing himself the more he got to know Ravi. He attempted to walk around in Wonshik’s shoes, however, the path he had encountered were full of thorns. They ripped open scars that N forgot that he had.

Ravi has his poker face on, but N knows that there’s a storm brewing underneath the surface. N has nothing to say to him now, though he pledges to himself that he will be there for Ravi once his storm wrecks havoc. That’s all he should be allowed to do. Ravi is still in love with Ken.

“I still want to be your friend, Ravi. You can talk to me.”

Ravi physically tenses. “Don't bother.”

N’a heart sinks. His tone wasn't devoid of emotion, still, it was a cutting-edge knife.

“You told me to not look back on the past. I can't do that as long as you are here. This is always what you wanted, you’re having what you want.”

Right. N has been trapped in his story for far too long. If Ravi can't see who N truly is, there's no point sticking around like an annoying blister. N should be happy that he got what he wants. He intakes a shuddery breath, trying to steady himself for the possible last words before Ravi disappears to the abyss. “Ravi, I have been rooting for you and Ken. I understand how much you care for him. This bet doesn’t mean the end for the two of you. You can still win him back.”

Ravi grips on his steering wheel, N can see the veins in his arms pop. A fear of being left behind exudes from Ravi.

You. You were the one who got away.

N fixes his gaze in front on the windshield. The light rain bloomed on the glass forming unrecognizable, disorganized pattern. The swiper shoves the water off N’s sight. In his mind, he kept clearing off the wishful thinking for a better relationship with the man closer than a brother. He knows Ravi’s story, but how much does Ravi knows N’s?

N swallows his confession. He lets Hongbin’s voice rings in his head.

  
  
  
  
  
“You little snitch.”

Ken takes off his gray jacket that Hyuk picked out for him. He drops it to the ground. He unbuttons his white shirt sluggishly. That gone to the carpet as well. He unbuckles his pants and discards it to one side. He climbs in bed next to Hongbin.

“I thought the faster he finds you here the faster he will go to me. That didn't work out.”

“It never worked out.”

“I thought he was worth a second try. God, I liked him so damned much.” Ken shuts his eyes and let the tears out freely. No one can judge him here in the dark.

  
  
  
  
  


**_Lost Land_ **

 

Ravi’s diligence is unmatched. Even though he is heartbroken, he will open up the cursed file on his desktop.  _ Lost Land.  _ He will dig up the land where all the dreams are lost and buried deep in the soils. He will continue his story somehow. He will write a novel. Screw N. Ravi can go on without him. He skimps over the first chapter and had to move on, and fast forward to chapter ten, the chapter that he’s stuck on. It is a chapter when Soyee drops Poki off in Ken’s custody. “I’m going backpacking in Europe. I’ll be back in five weeks,” she said. She was gone for seven years. At first, the topic on Poki came up in their exchanged emails, but overtime, no one wanted to talk about him. 

Poki waddles over and lies beneath Ravi’s feet. The sparkling youth in his eyes were long extinguished. At least I have you to grow old with me.  I can’t run and play around no more. That’s what his eyes are telling Ravi.

Ravi falls asleep in his chair. They say that you will dream about the last thing you see before closing your eyes. Instead of dreaming of himself and Ken giving Poki his first bath laughing, Ravi meets endless blackness.

  
  
  


**Hongbin’s**

 

Hongbin lets the water sit in the warming pot. He would feel at home, perfectly at ease if not for a visitor who causes him constant headache.  “Don’t snoop around,” says Hongbin, loud enough that his voice drifts out to his living room. 

“Then don’t invite me over,” replies N. He moves a huge painting over to lean against the coffee table before plopping down on the arm chair.

Hongbin pokes his head around the doorway. “Really now. You’re going to pay if you scratched my arts. You could have sit on the couch.”

“Couches are for losers.”

“Perfect for you.”

N chucks the tissue box at him. Hongbin dodges back into the kitchen just in time. He spreads out the raw spaghetti into the boiling pot.

“What are we having for dinner tonight? Hmm. Let me guess.” N pauses for a long time.

Hongbin has to check on N again to make sure that he’s alive.

"Meatball spaghetti. Like always.”

Hongbin throws the tissue box back at him. “Not meatballs. It’s broccoli spaghetti. We’re doing vegetarian tonight.”

“A downgrade. I’m leaving, Hongbin.”

“The exit’s on your right. Have a good night, N.”

The living room is soundless again. When Hongbin walks away from the boiling spaghetti, he finds N crouching in front of the portrait. Hongbin squats down next to him. “Surprise. You can have it if you want. I suppose Ravi doesn’t need this for his movie poster anymore? He being a quitter and all.”

“Shut up, Hongbin. I’m not talking about the movie if you aren’t talking about Leo.”

Hongbin shifts awkward on the balls of his heels. Leo. Has it been a decade already since he last saw that man? Even if it has not been, Hongbin grew up wise and thought better for himself. He doesn’t need a man to live.

“You know what, N?”

“What?”

“You’re the biggest pain in the ass.”

“You wish I’m up in that ass of yours.” N winks.

Hongbin grabs a banana off the coffee table to whack at N’s head.

N dodges. He continues scrutinizing the painting as if nothing happened. “It’s weird. This is my younger self, but not really. It’s Wonshik.”

Hongbin knows what he meant. The boy in the white school uniform is bony, but he resembles N. Hongbin drew him from his memories. Hakyeon was light like swallow. Wonshik had fierce fire behind his pupils, that’s what N looks like in the picture right now: he was both Hakyeon and Wonshik; a blend of quiet desire and  burning passion. “I suck at portraits. They don’t look like the real person.” Although he was able to make the statement aloud, both men know that Hongbin is just being humble.

“This is perfect. I should look like this on camera.”

Hongbin stares at N at a close range. “You were never fierce,” he states. “You tried to hide your fire, but you have too much inside of you and it showed little by little. Yours is warmer; it doesn’t burn like Ravi. He sets fire on anything that gets too close to him. They suffer from his heat.”

N cocks his head to one side. “You do know how draw portraits.” He taps his cheek lightly.

Hongbin’s ears turn red. “I just know you guys too well.”

“So I’m the friendly fire.”

“Yup. You’re a fluffy ball of sunshine.”

“I don’t want to be something that lame.”

“You’re not lame.” Hongbin stares deep into his eyes. “Your fire hurts too”

N huddles closer to Hongbin. They are whispering like they did when they were younger, more pure, more naive. “What do you mean?”

Hongbin sits on the floor, cross-legged. “You are an overheated rug. People hurt their feet trying to walk all over you.”

“Was that a compliment or an insult?”

Hongbin shrugs the comment off. “I’d like to draw you as you for my next exhibition. Not someone else.”

“Go ahead. You don’t need me as your model. You can draw people perfectly from your memory.”

“Not perfectly. My memory has its own mind.” Hongbin laughs. “And that’s the problem.” Again, his mind flits back to that someone. He vaguely recalls his piney cologne, though his face blurs. Like a PTSD patient, the traumatic event becomes a blank screen in Hongbin’s head. He doesn’t remember what went wrong anymore. Hongbin smiles. He only wants to enjoy his birthday today.

N leans back to the armchair. “If we are fire and heat, then you are a mist.”

Hongbin understands that observation too.

Sound of metal clanking resonates the living room makes the two tear their gaze from the paintings. Ken lets himself into the apartment. “Happy birthday, Hongbin.”

Hongbin ignores Ken and makes a beeline for the box that’s tied in ribbon in his hands. “What cake did you get?”

“You’ll see later.” He saunters over to kitchen table. “Hongbin, something’s boiling.”

“Oh. Shit.” Hongbin runs off to the stove.

Ken follows him inside. “Why didn’t you tell me he’s here?” he asks in a hushed voice.

"I want both of you to come. It’s always the two of us for my birthday. And we aren’t dating or anything.”

“It’s just a tradition, dumbass. Who wants to date you?”

Hongbin hits Ken with the spatula.

He yelps. “You’ll regret inviting him.”

“We’ll see.” Hongbin scoops up the mushy noodles and splits it into three plates. He pours the greenish sauce over them.

Ken grimaces. “Do we have to eat that? I can order Chinese food.”

“No Chinese food.” Hongbin glares at him.

They take the plates out and lays them on the table around a pot of daffodil.

“Kind of random to have a plant here. I should’ve bought you roses,” Ken comments.

Hongbin ignores N’s strange look. “Ken’s obsessed with expensive roses. It got nothing to do with me.”

Ken nods in agreement. “They are my mom’s favourite.”

“How is she in the States?” Hongbin asks, though it actually sounded muffled, coming from a mouth full of spaghetti.

"She’s not in the hospital anymore.” Ken coughs up some broccoli green sauce. “She’s now the exec at Korean-American Women’s Association. She’s busy organizing fundraisers for charities.”

“Are you going to visit her soon?” asks N.

Ken lays the forks and spoons around. He doesn’t meet N’s eyes when he says, “I’m too busy with work. Maybe next year.”

Hongbin gives the oblivious N a side glare. It’s never a good idea to bring up Ken’s estranged and “crazy” mom.

“You’re still at that shitty paparazzi company?” asks Hongbin a little too loudly. “I thought it was shut down already.”

Ken stabs his fork through the spaghetti. “Don’t jinx it. It’s dying, but it’s still alive.”

“It’s going to shut down without the dirt on N,” says Hongbin.

Ken narrows his eyes at him.

“What? N probably knows all your dirty tricks. That’s why he’s not talking to you.”

“You’re going to tell everyone that I was a drag queen, are you?” asks N.

“N, Hongbin’s here.” Ken gawks at him.

“Hey, why are you all hiding secrets from me?” says Hongbin. “You were a drag queen?” He gasps.

“Yeah. I was working at a club for a bit after I left your home.” N turns to Ken then. “So are you going to tell everybody?”

“I swear I won’t. Try trusting me this one time.”

N makes no comment on that.

“Guys, eat more,” says Hongbin.

“Chinese food?” asks Ken.

Right away, N cleans up the plates for real food.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed your summer! Thank you for being patient with me. :)
> 
> So this is the denouement from Hongbin's missing episode. At this point, I just want the boys to have the endings that they deserve. <3 
> 
> How do you think everything's going to go down now? What do you stan? Let me know in the comment.
> 
> You're good with the story? Then kudos and sub. Thank you for all the responses so far.
> 
> Your dreamer,
> 
> suzyelf
> 
> P.S. VIXX is coming to my city to hold a concert. Finally!!! Been waiting for 3 and 1/2 year. Hold me tight, Starlights. TT


	20. Roses From Lovers

**Hyuk’s**

 

Ken knocks down a stack of folding papers as soon as he steps past the threshold of the living room, Hyuk yelps.

The younger kid glares back at him. “Pick them up, hyung,” he says. His attention then returns to the red paper that he holds between his short fingers. He flips the paper over and over again, until it becomes a smaller shape.

Ken bends down to pick up the strayed papers. They all have the colour red. He looks around and spots some green papers as well. He peers over at Hyuk and his strangely satisfied smile. He snatches the paper from Hyuk’s hand.

“Ken hyung,” says Hyuk, whining. “What are you doing?”

An origami rose. Ken looks from the rose to Hyuk, and then back to the rose. Ken clears his throat. His hand sweeps over the room that are strewn with roses. “What all these for? The marketing department at Jelpi has nothing better to do?”

Some pink creeps onto Hyuk’s cheeks. Ken peers down at him. It’s true what Sungjae said, Hyuk does get red easily, making him popular amongst guys and girls back in the high school days. Ken chuckles lowly. “Prince Sanghyuk, who’s the lucky princess this time?”

Hyuk blushes even harder. “They aren’t for a princess; they are for a prince. No. A king. Because I’m the prince already.” He smiles back at him cheekily, mocking his own nickname.

Ken squats down next to him. He looks thoughtful. “Who’s the king?”

“None of your business.”

“Han Sanghyuk.” He nudges his side, trying to tip him over.  “I thought I’m your best hyung. You can tell me anything.” Ken’s smile is friendly, but his ill intention shows through.

Hyuk pushes him over, annoyed.

Ken cries dramatically, he clutches his stomach as if Hyuk’s coldness stabbed him. “Ow. Hyuk, you ungrateful wench. After all that I’ve done for you. You can’t even tell me who your crush is?”

Hyuk rolls his eyes. “What are you talking about?” He is going to pull his hyung up, however, something shiny catches his eyes. “You’re still wearing the bracelet?” Gently, Hyuk grabs his wrist to take a closer look at the lucky charm.

Ken grins. “My grandma’s taste is so exquisite and so expensive.”

Hyuk laughs. “You’ve been going out wearing silver and gold? You’re going to get mugged.”

Ken stares at the bracelet that is meant for his one true love. Ironically, Ravi was never there to receive it. A small smile appears though when he looks back at Hyuk. “I don’t want to take it off when it’s a gift from you.”

Though Hyuk is blushing, he kicks Ken nonetheless.

Ken looks on at his dongsaeng’s daft hands that produces another piece of paper rose. His gaze meets the bracelet on his wrist, a token that Hyuk gave him out of kindness. After his hyung has been stood up by his date, it was inevitable that Hyuk would be nothing but kind to him. Ken couldn’t think of any other thing that Hyuk would do in that embarrassing situation. Because of him, the bracelet isn’t about Ravi anymore; it’s about Ken and who he likes.

“If you weren’t being nice to me, who would you give this to?” asks Ken, not truly expecting any answer.

Hyuk doesn’t answer him, he’s fully absorbed into his gifts.

Ken’s attention is on the jewelry again. Maybe Hyuk really thought of him as someone special. Maybe all these roses are for him. Did his favourite dongsaeng finally grew up to be serious and assertive?

Ken takes one of the roses to keep it in his pocket. He will pretend that he doesn’t already know that the surprise is for him. “Thank you, Hyuk. Thank you for everything.”

 

 

**Press Conference**

  


Someone knocks at the door to the dressing room. N sits cross-legged in front of the brightly-lit mirror, judging his own flawless complexion. He used to hate the nickname the “Dark Knight”. He was his individual person, though he still wanted to fit in with other idols once he got more recognition as a mainstream artist; when he was no longer dancing hiddenly in the dingy shadow.

From the scents of the faint roses, N can already tell who the visitor is without taking his eyes off of himself. “What are you doing here, Hongbinnie?”

“‘Hongbinnie?’” Hongbin first scowls, then he smiles. He walks over and takes the chair next to N. He glanced over at the Nylon magazine. “I never knew that you have an interest in what you’re wearing.”

N rolls up his magazine and slaps Hongbin’s broad chest. “Not everyone is born handsome like you. I have to wear the right clothes to be attractive.” Sometimes, he can’t help to stop a flatter or two slipping out of his mouth that will boost Hongbin’s helpless ego. He shakes his head at himself.

“All I remember of your ‘fashion’ was that one black t-shirt and baggy jeans when we still lived together.” Hongbin cringes.

N laughs too. “I was always working. I still looked good though.”

“Oh. Please.” Hongbin leans back into his swivel chair. “But I still liked you better before even though you were derpy. You were cooler.” He winks.

N gets what he meant. He, too, had a soft spot for the Hakyeon before. Back then, he only had one goal: to be the best Cha Hakyeon he can ever be.

“Are you ready to meet the reporters again? Do you have the script ready?” Hongbin’s serious sonorous voice grounds N to the present and the great next move that he is about to throw himself into.

N straightens his own white collar. “Ravi will do most of the talking. This is his movie’s press conference too.”

Hongbin lightly spins N’s chair toward him. He reaches out to fix his crooked tie. “I heard that he’s nowhere to be seen.” He stares up at him. “You’re on your own, N.”

N grimaces. “I’m always on my own. I got used to it.”

Hongbin pulls his chair closer. Their knees bump against each others. His ardent gaze holds N in his place. “And I’m always rooting for you. So do Sungjae, Hyuk, Ken, and even Ravi. You care about Ravi’s problems way too much to see how much you’re loved.”

N pulls away from him. “I’m not worried about him.” He clears his throat. “I’m not sure if the public will like a controversial idol singer-turns-actor. No one’s going to take me seriously, Hongbinnie.”

Hongbin unclasps N’s tight grip on the wrinkled magazine. His urging gaze never leaves him. “Remember you’re not really Kim Wonshik. You’re still you, Hakyeon. They will all see your hard work.”

N lets Hongbin hold his hand for another second. “I got it, Hongbin. You can let go now. You’re creeping me out.”

He squeezes N’s hand. “You said you only care about your fans. Your true fans will love whatever you do even no one else does. You can’t give up now.”

"Who said I’m giving up?” says N. “I have my fans, and they love me. I am loved.” His assertion rings loud and true in the private room.

Hongbin finally drops his hand. He reaches in his pocket to get out a hand sanitizer. He rubs the gel all over his hand. He puts it up for N to see. “You see this beautiful hand? It’s for my lover only.”

N rolls his eyes. He looks down at his magazine. He doubts Hongbin can detect the dullness in his eyes. He wants to ask how it’s like to be loved by Leo. He wonders if he can give up the chance of the world loving him in exchange for that one person who sees him as the whole world.

  
  
  
  
  
  
“N,” Sungjae calls from behind N. N twists his body sideway to avoid a collision with the manager. Sungjae slings his arms around N to keep him close anyway. “Where have you been? You left right after the conference. I thought you’re flying to Amazon, never coming back.”

N pushes his cheek away from his face. “Stay away from me. Do you want a scandal with me?”

Sungjae pulls him tighter. “You’re too hard on yourself. You did well explaining your role and your expectations about the movie. You were pretty convincing when you talked about your plan for acting. But I don’t think that the fans will be too thrilled about not hearing any plan for a musical comeback.”

N suddenly halts in his track down the hallway. Sungjae runs smack into him. “You guys told me to keep quiet about new songs. I need to focus on making the perfect movie.” N loosens his tie. “I don’t want to affect my music with my reputation right now. It won’t be fair to what I create.”

Sungjae shrugs. “Okay, man. Let’s go drinking? You don’t have morning schedule tomorrow.”

N’s shoulders sag. His only desire is the warm bed back into his ghost apartment. He wants the image of the flashing camera and the aggressive reporters out of his minds. If only Ravi came today to answer all the bombarding questions. N tried his best to answer as much as he knew about the production without giving away too much. He needed to keep on a cordial smile too. He’s ready to collapse in his safe haven.

“What’s this?” Sungjae squats down in N’s track. N nearly trips over Sungjae. N takes a deep breath to swallow his yell; in case there might still be some paparazzi lingering around the venue.  

“Look at this flowery path.” Sungjae gasps dramatically.

N follows Sungjae’s gaze. He picks up one paper rose in front of him, and then another. On the way out of the building, he gathers ten roses in total.

Sungjae laughs. “Stop, N. Maybe this is a prank cam or some poor guy is about to propose to his girlfriend.”

N drops the flowers in his hands. Sungjae is right. Why would anyone prepare these thoughtful gifts for him? His face starts turning red. Don’t red roses represent passionate love? N doesn’t recall being loved whole-heartedly at the moment.

N steps over the flowers and aims straight for the exit. He can’t wait to become one with his bed.

As soon as he steps out into the cruel wind, the confetti boom into the starless night sky; some of them fly straight to N’s face, being cushioned by the current. Then he sees the small crowd of people bundled up together, cheering. All of them gather red roses in their arms. Some of them even carry banners over their heads. They read: “N is my brightest light”; “N is my only light, I’m his only flower”; “ _Lost Land’s_ Kim Wonshik Daebak!” Although N already knows half of the people showing up are from Jelpi plus Hongbin and Ken, there’s still a dozen fans waiting for him to come out. He doesn’t dare move from his spot. In his mind, he captures the moment. He will replace the previous harsh frame in his timeline with softer, more meaningful minute. His world is bright without star.

“N hyung.” Hyuk steps out of the crowd. “Congratulations on landing your role.” He lifts the flowers in front of N. His cheeks are flaming, exceeding the roses.

N accepts his roses in one sweep, he can no longer hide his doting smile. He sniffs on the paper, he smells the love exuding from the fake, but real bouquet.

Hyuk says, “I thought it would be nice to have a fan event today. We folded three hundred roses for you. Do you like them?” he asks shyly.

“Why roses?” asks N.

“We all love you. This is a promise of forever from us, like lovers.”

Like lovers? N smiles. “Thank you.”

Even though N can’t have one person, at least he has the whole world.

  
  
  


At last, N steps into his van, among the enthusiastic farewell from the crowd. Hyuk packs away the box of roses into the back of the company van. Ken leans against the vehicle, watching the young man flexes his arms. “I still can’t believe the roses are for N.”

Hyuk closes the trunk. “I did tell you they were for my king. Who else can that be?”

Ken laughs. That is typical of Hyuk. N has always been an unsurmountable role model for Hyuk. If it wasn’t because of his intention to get close to N, Hyuk wouldn't have found his passion to be a journalist. But without Ken, Hyuk wouldn’t be a good journalist. With his right arm well supported by the van, Ken angles himself nearer to Hyuk, almost trapping him in the back. Hyuk is oblivious. He is busy digging for something.

“Ta da.” A bundle of flowers suddenly appears in Hyuk’s hands. The bouquet is made of flowy, soft texture that gives away hints of paper napkins. They have been dyed red. “I made something special for you. They are carnations.”

Ken closes his palms around the base. “I used to give them to my mom on Mother’s Day,” says Ken.

Hyuk pouts. “Only pink carnations are for moms; these are red.”

Ken ruffles Hyuk’s hair. It doesn’t matter what red carnations are suppose to mean; he’s grateful that Hyuk remembers him. “I’ll hang them up in my living room. I will let you sign it.”

Something squeezes around Ken’s torso. Hyuk runs his hand down his back. Unlike Ravi’s touch, his touch sends no shivers, but Ken is safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for still following the story. How's everyone's back to school? I have been busy with school and work as always. Thank you for being patient with me! I will be focusing on updating the chapters leading up to the ending.
> 
> I wrote this relatively new chapter because one of my readers has expressed that N is really unloved. And they are right! I just want to write this chapter to give N some love. :') 
> 
> Thank you for reading. Comment, kudos, and subscribe are always welcome.
> 
> Happy September.
> 
> Your dreamer,
> 
> suzyelf


	21. Rain Fear

**Cafe**

  
  


I Once Fell In Love

By Ravi

 

Love-

A small word that’s been debated by smartass philosophers living in eons;

The definitions are all cold and tough.

Love comes in many forms, too many to decipher.

The only form that is true called “you-and-me”.

Me crushing your heart into infinite pieces.

You returning the favour five thousands time over

With interest more heartless than the loan sharks.

  


Rain Fear

By Ravi

Rain---

It reminds me of the trauma that I gave you the other day.

The day when I wished you happiness.

I didn’t mean it.

I know everything about you:

Until your ego becomes smaller,

Or you just stopped caring.

After I left.

Are you still scared of the rain?

 

Fear---

Are you still scared of me?

 

Ravi folds the poems in halves, and in quarters. He hides himself in the deepest corner of the cafe, away from the sight of the happiest people in the centre table. The rain is tapity and tapity outside, but it doesn’t seem like the rain reminds Ken of Ravi the way it affects him. Ken’s smile is too wide when he laughs at one of Hyuk’s stupid jokes. Ravi recognizes everyone else at the table---there are Ken’s sister, the brother-in-law, and his cousin. Ravi takes his gaze off that table. His eyes fleet over the poems. He imagines when those corny poems end up in Ken’s hands. It would not be the same as Ken writing Ravi secret love letters. Instead, Ken will return him a saddest smile, shake his head, before return them all. He will be full of pity and Ravi hates pity.

He drops the poems in the half-empty coffee cup.

  
  
  
  


“I heard you quit your job?” Jangri asks her baby brother Ken. She pours herself some wine to salute him, only she misses her aim through her double vision. “My good brother,” she raises her voice. “I was going to burn down that building if you didn’t quit. Well done.” She drains her drink clean.

Ken makes an unpleasant face. “Please, Big Sis. You’re embarrassing.”

Jangri doesn’t seem to be fazed. “I get it, your boyfriend’s here.” She winks.

Ken and his brother-in-law roll their eyes simultaneously. “Honey, stop drinking. You’re scaring Hyuk away,” says Mino, smiling.

“We’re not...I’m not…,” says Hyuk, blushing. He looks down at his lasagna.

“The details aren’t important,” Ken’s cousin chimes in. Nana always follows what Jangri says like they are twins. “Right, unnie?”

“Nana, my good girl. I’ll drink to you too.” Jangri pours herself another glass.

Mino cuts his steak. Though he is dissecting the meat, but Ken can feel his gaze cutting through Ken. His brother-in-law is always so sensitive. “Why did you quit?”

“It’s a dirty job,” Ken says matter-of-fact. “I’m tired of being the bad guy. I want to leave people’s lives alone.” He takes a piece of his cod fish and puts it in Hyuk’s plate. “It’s time for a new change. I want to be like Hyukkie, excelling at his new job.”

"I’m not excelling. I just got promoted and a raise; that’s all,” says Hyuk. He holds his head higher. He straightens his back. He is obviously full of pride.  

Mino smiles. “Congratulations to you both.” He toasts them with his orange juice, which only Hyuk returns it.

Jangri tsks. She looks from her husband to her baby brother. “You two are still so awkward.” She punches her husband’s shoulder. “Loosen up, buddy.”

“We’re all good now.” Mino pours himself a few inches of wine. He raises his glass to Ken. “I’m sorry for all the nasty things I said about you and your group of friends.” By “your group of friends”, he meant the LGBTQ group. “I was so mean to you before, and calling you a coward when you wouldn’t talk to dad.” He clinks glass with Ken.

Ken drinks with him. After he put down the glass, he says, “You were thinking for my best interest. I got that.”

Mino looks relieved. “Yes. Exactly. You’re my wife’s little bro. I has to look out for you. And don’t worry about dad too much. You live your life’.”

Ken understands that doing something for someone else’s best interests does not equal to doing something that is good to them. Still, he was acting with good intention.

Nana raises her brow at Hyuk. “So when’s the wedding?”

Hyuk mumbles something like: “Never. Not with him.”

Nana squeals. “Great. I heard you like art? I have two tickets to the exhibition featuring your idol N. I think that’s your idol?”

Hyuk looks like he is about to leap out of his chair, as if it is something instinctive, but he glances over at Ken hyung before grabbing his chance. “Um… I already said I’d go with Ken.”

Ken takes a bite of his broccoli in leisure. “We can all go.”

Hyuk looks back at Nana and smiles. “Sounds good.”

Jangri and Mino scrutinize the three. The younger ones are chatting and laughing about the pictures that they will go to see. Ken teases Hyuk for freaking out over a painting of N sleeping; the adoration oozes out from the crinkles of his eyes.

  


**Ravi’s**

  


Poki shakes out his fur with all his might until he is somewhat dry. Begrudgingly, Ravi wipes off the puddle of water. “I can't live with you for the rest of my life if you don't listen to me.” The edge of his voice teeters off balance. Once his voice starts cracking, then his chest constricts. It's hard to be a single dad. With the hair dryer in his hand, he stalks his waddling pet. Poki doesn't run as fast as a young pup. He’s within Ravi’s reach.

The doorbell rings, but Poki is not barking like he always does towards strangers. Ravi opens the door. Instead of slamming the door back to its place, something compels him to hold the door ajar; every cell in his body screams “run away from your safe haven.” There’s still room to maintain the status quo if he shuts the door now. Nothing can possibly mess up his and Poki’s life.

Poki finally barks at the woman on the other side of the metal door. The dog that  hardly makes any whining sound now greets the woman in skips, tails wagging. Is that how Ravi was when he saw Ken again at the bus stop?

“Aren’t you letting me in?” asks Soyee.

Ravi unbolts the lock.

“Hi, Poki. It’s your mommy.”

Poki backs up two steps from the outstretched hands. Those fingers are ugly tentacles trying to strangle both of their lives.

Poki dashes away before anyone can get him.

“How did you find me?” asks Ravi.

“Ken’s mom told me. I was at Daejeon last week. Are you trying to hide Poki from me?”

“Took you long enough to get your ass over here.”

“Well, I’m here now. Poki,” she calls. She squats next to Ravi’s desk where Poki lies. He runs off under Ravi’s feet. He picks him up and snuggles him close to his chest. “You’re too late. Should’ve came back earlier.”

“Why does it matter? Poki is mine. I raised him since he’s a baby. He misses his mommy.”

“Since the day you didn’t pick him up on time, he’s no longer yours. He’s ours. He doesn’t remember you.”

“So what? I still love him.”

Ravi strokes his soft grayish white fur, the same hair that he has been brushing for years. Day after day. Night after night. He had to brush out those damned tangled hair. He’d bite him. Ken would hit Ravi when he yanked too hard on their baby. Ken would say that he will brush him next time, but he never did. ‘Til this day, Ravi brushes his hair day and night even when there’s no one to yell at him.

Ravi passes Poki over to that strange woman’s arms. Poki screams at him and reproaches him. How could you give me away?

“Thanks, Ravi. You can come visit him whenever you want.”

Ravi slams the door at them as soon as they are gone. Poki is rightfully hers.

  
  
  
  


N punches the doorbell repeatedly. The third metal door down the hall is barred and forged with the appearance of cold security, but N is relentless. He sticks his hand through the bars and bangs on his door. “Open the door, Ravi.” He yells through the prisoner’s wall. “We need our director.”

The whole apartment falls into silence. Not even a dog would bark at him. Did he bring Poki out for a walk? N listens to the thunderstorm hackling on the roof and scratching on the windows. Ravi would be a mad man roaming outside, even wild animals are hiding.

N probes around the metal frame. His fingers poking until he finds the spare key hiding in the doorframe. He inserts it into the metal lock but it does not fit. All at once, N is unsure of himself. It’s okay. Ravi isn’t hard to figure out at all. N yanks at the door and slides it open. See? The outer metal door wasn’t locked at all. He shoves the key to the lock attached to the wooden door and turns his wrist. N steals the moment.

The blinds are all drawn, air-tight. The apartment smells like faint cologne like the last time N visited, only, something old and musty laces with the trapped air. The room is strewn with dirty laundry, pops and beer cans, and used tissues. N takes the remote and turns the TV off. N reorients himself to the direction of Ravi’s room.

In the dim darkness, Ravi flops over on his desk. He is half buried in papers. His silk pajama loses its smoothness and shininess. His mouth is slightly ajar. He is snoring away, saying “no” to the world.

N marches over to him and pinches his shoulder. Ravi’s eyelids flutter open, before he closes them again. “How did you get in?” He drawls out his words. His breath is stank with wine.

“I knew you would leave the key out for Ken. He always forgets his key.”

“What are you doing here?”

N leans over his desk, until his breath hits his ear. “I need you to get your shit together. You were convincing the investors to pull out of the movie. Why are you sabotaging your own project?”

Ravi rotates his head so his right cheek would touch the desk. “I can’t make my movie without my main character. What’s the point?”

“You’re blaming me? You lost the bet. It’s not my fault that Ken gave up on you.”

Ravi gets up. The cat-shaped paperweight vibrates on his desk. He narrows his eyes at N. “Why is the bet so important to you? I thought you like me. Why are you pushing me to Ken?”

“I love you.”

“And you think I don’t? But you’re my rival.” Ravi laces his fingers tightly together. He stares ahead of his hands. His eyes fleet back and forth like moth following light. “I tried to patch things up with him, but it didn’t work. He found someone better.” The impact of his knuckles connects the table shatters the thin defensive line that N erects between them. “I don’t care if I win our bet or not.” He teeters on the balls of his feet. “Isn’t that what you want to hear from me? That I would quit? You never wanted to do the movie in the first place. You don’t have to play the nice guy anymore.” He comes around the massive table that separates them. He comes so close that the stale wine pushes itself forward in N’s face. “You’re just guilty for what you did. Do you actually care for me?” He points at himself from head to toe. “Do you really care for the guy you see right now?”

N forgets to breathe. How dares he asks if he cares for Kim Wonshik? N trips over nothing, still, he falls. He suddenly knows which knife he threw at him. He’s so not so sure if he believed what he said to him. Do I care about you?

N remembers the person who went to see Mr. Park with him. The person who he fished with a few weeks ago. The person who came to him two years ago when most people hated him. The person suddenly had hope again when he said “yes” to _Lost Land_. It’s all you.

Though Ravi looks blank now. “The only thing you can do now is lose to me,” says Ravi, “but that’s not an option when everyone loves you now because of Hongbin’s arts. I couldn’t ruin you. I couldn’t rebuild you either. I’m useless to you.”

N shakes his head. “You are important to me,” he says. “I’d do anything for you, Ravi.”

Ravi sneers. N plants his feet firm into the carpet. “You might not think so now, but remember that I meant what I said today when everything got better. You will be better.”

N perceives the slightest shake of his head as a nod. Ravi has to no one else to believe in.

  
  


N has no choice but to leave Ravi alone. Ravi considers what N has told him. Would he really do anything for him? Especially now he has nothing. Something strikes Ravi. He bends lower for his right hand to reach for his right drawer. He pulls out a key item that Ravi has hanged onto for a long time. Ravi is still confused. Why did he steal it from Ken’s shoebox in the deep of the closet? Perhaps it was the pink glittery feathers pooling around Ken’s bony ankles that drew him in. Or it was those sparkly blue sequin wrapped around Ken’s hips that urged him to keep it. Or it was the massive purple feathers fanning out behind N’s sunkissed back. Ravi gulps.

N was never perfect even though he made himself to be. If he was, he wouldn’t be a drag queen, showing his most vulgar side in front of an audience that lusted after the shiny trophy man. Ravi should have crumbled up the offending picture. He should have turned away from him with disgust. Instead, the loud, attention-seeking gold paints on their faces set Ravi’s body on fire. He craves them both. So he keeps the photo to himself.

  
  
  


**Backstage**

  


The dreams take N by surprise. They all happened too fast. One minute he was in Ravi’s apartment, still trying to deal with its owner and his ludicrous wish for his movie to get off the ground, the next he got into a whirl of activities after Hongbin’s exhibition is out in the world along with N’s bare self. Sungjae’s phone got busier again with calls buzzing looking for N. Looking for me for what? At first N stumbled on his feet, unsure what to do with the rush of people trying to grab for him, seeking out his talent again. “You’re not dreaming, son. Hongbin’s exhibition is a hit. So are you,” says Sungjae. N hits him back for calling him “son.” Sungjae glares back. “Get yourself together, ‘kay? I don't want to be out of job again.”

“N-ssi?” a timid-looking girl calls his attention. “Can I have your autograph?” N imagines his face being wrinkled in her tight fists.

N looks away from the mirror and swivels on his make-up chair. The staff in the dressing room is yapping on with their usual gossips, plus preparing N for his special stage in a long time. It is not an official comeback yet, but it doesn’t hurt to test the water now. The team is buzzed with renewed energy, nobody seems to notice the girl that has wandered in except for N.

“Sure.” He smiles at her, inviting her to come nearer. He takes over the permanent ink marker and the polaroid of him holding up a V-sign. N chuckles. He takes another glance at the girl who stares at something behind N. “You won it through a contest?”

“My friend gave it to me after… uh.” The girl bows her head. Her strayed hair hides her red profile.

N’s grin splits wider. “It's alright.” He hands back the signed photograph.

“I went to the exhibition.” She peers at him. “My favorite is the black-and-white painting looking to the side, curling up like a fetus-”

“-not wearing anything,” says N, teasing.

The girl blushes a fiery shade of red. “It’s not just about the body. There's an innocence to it, like a child we all want to protect. A child that saw too many terrible things.”

N gives her a helpless smile. Aren’t we all only children?

“I like your military portrait the best,” says his hairstylist. He straightens his back and salutes him.

N’s response is automatic. He is still a child, though he will be bulletproof. The longer he lives, the more he realizes the life can never get easier. So can he being tougher.

The door flings open then, startling N’s stance. Sungjae marches over to N. He bends toward him. “Come with me for a minute,” says Sungjae.

N follows Sungjae out of the waiting room. He makes no eye-contact with anyone; he knows that none of them looks his way anyway. They are avoiding him like plague---a feeling, a deja vu, creeps up from two-year-and-half ago.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So Ravi has been experiencing some major stress in this chapter. His way might not be the best method to deal with his troubles. How would you deal with life's difficulties that are piling up on you? I remembered crying it all out before cutting off the people that made me feel small.... It's probably better to take deep breaths, do some yoga, or read a book. Do anything that let yourself relax a bit. :)
> 
> Really thank you for sticking with me for a long time. Like what you're reading? Leave a comment, kudos, or sub!
> 
> Hope you have a nice, exciting week.
> 
> Your dreamer,  
> suzyelf


	22. Penance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun...after a long-time away, I decided just to write out of the dramas that are going down... What is going to happen to N now? :/ Why is Ravi so being so terrible? :( Ugh. 
> 
>  
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts! Leave a kudos or subscribe if you are still along this ride. Love y'all! ;)
> 
> Your dreamer,
> 
> suzyelf 
> 
> P.S. I finally met VIXX after almost 4 years of waiting. T.T I can finally be in peace. :')

**Rooftop**

 

Sungjae picks Ken off of the flat roof by pulling on his collars. The corner of his mouth, a soft spot is painted with pink bruises. “Why did you defame N? I thought you guys were friends.” He squeaks. 

 

“It wasn’t me.” Ken chokes on his blood and saliva. This scene is an eerie deja vu. 

 

“You were the only one who knows that he was a drag queen working in the dingy club,” says Sungjae, he can barely control his pitch. His larynx rises into a concerto, scraping Ken’s eardrum.

 

Out of Ken’s peripheral vision, the blurred city below his wobbly feet tilts sideway. “I wasn’t the only one who knew. The people worked there knew. You knew.”

 

Sungjae clenches his shirt tighter. “What are you trying to say? I would’ve told the press years ago if I wanted him dead. Aren’t you trying to save  _ Scandal News?  _ This is your big shot. _ ” _

 

“I did consider telling on him.” Oof. Another punch lands on his right cheek. “But I kept my mouth sealed. I care for him.”

 

“You care for  _ Scandal News _ too,” says Sungjae. His eyes are still untrustful.

 

“I do.” Ken’s voice croaks, “even if it’s shitty, it made the person I am today. I was a paparazzi who treated celebrities a little bit more like human than objects. That’s also why I quit my job.” He sneers.

 

Sungjae releases his wrinkled collar. “N should’ve never met you.”

 

Ken can only imagine how N’s worst nightmare only becomes darker the second time around. “I only wanted to help N. I wanted him to shine.”

 

The laugh comes low at first, then it gets louder.

 

Ken watches Sungjae walks off the with his head up. His maniac laugh meets no accomplice. The sound encircles above them like unrelenting, hungry crows. 

 

Ken shuts his eyes to block out the haunting sound, and only opens them once more when he hears footsteps approaching. 

 

“Ken hyung, please let me teach you some taekwondo.”

 

“I didn’t do it, Hyuk. Why would I? I love him.”

 

“Me too. I trust you, Ken hyung.” Hyuk’s warm hand encloses Ken’s tepid palm; he pulls him off the ground. 

  
  
  
  


Parking Lot 

  
  


The crunching leaves beneath his shoes shatter the suspense; it is the silence living in the urban nature before the crows come out to savage the stripped-bare bones. 

 

“Drinking in public---it’s illegal in some countries,” says N. He nods over at the bottles of beers that Ravi gathers at his feet. 

 

“This is Korea. We haven’t even started and you are drunk already. No one can see us here.”

 

Aside from the tires rolling on the roads, there are no one but the two rivals. N grabs a bottle and slumps by Ravi’s car. He pops it open. He raises it above his head. “Let’s get drunk tonight.”N gulps down all the liquid without Ravi. The word “let’s” loses its meaning.

 

Ravi gets another beer. He sips it slow. The drink should be getting warm, but it only getting colder in N’s palms. Ravi blows white air into the night sky; they form mist in front of N’s eyes. They are facing towards the bushes, shadow casted on Ravi’s profile. There’s no way to tell if Ravi is here to comfort him or makes things worse for him. 

 

“What was your first drink like?” asks Ravi.

 

“It was at a friend’s house. This guy snuck in a few cans in his backpack under the books. He came into my room through the window, wearing a mask. I almost screamed.” N’s laugh turns to gurgles as he swallows the liquid. The drops drip on his elongated neck. “I threw him on the bed with one hand. And my dad didn’t even care when he caught us in the bed. ‘Don’t wake her up,’ that’s all he said.”

 

“Who’s with you again?”

 

N widens his eyes. How can he not know? “Jun and Taeseok. You were there too. Jun climbed the window. And then you guys sneaked in.”

 

“I don’t remember”

 

N scoffs. “You really like to pretend you were never there for me at all.”

 

“I didn’t pretend, it’s the truth.”

 

N takes another swig of his drink. “Last time I talked to them, they still remembered you puking all over my floor and fell asleep on it.”

 

Ravi cracks a small smile. “No. I didn’t.”

 

N throws crusty leaves at Ravi. “You so did.”

 

Ravi brushes them off of his black coat. They are going to stick between the fibres. N wonders how is he going to wash them off. He reaches out to swipe at them.

 

Ravi shudders. “How are Jun and Taeseok? Haven’t talked to them in years.”

 

“Jun is a banker now. He hates his job. Taeseok got married last year. He’s going to be a dad soon.” N grins. “Can you imagine him raising a kid? Wanna bet how many times he’s going to drop his baby?”

 

“One thousand times.”

 

“I don’t think so. He’s not as clumsy as before. He’s going to be a great dad.”

 

Ravi leans backward to his car. “He won’t get that much better. People don’t change that fast.”

 

“They didn’t change fast; you’re just slow.”

 

Ravi gulps down more of his beer.

 

“Don’t drink so fast, you have a weak stomach.”

 

Ravi wipes the droplets that escapes from his mouth. “You’re the weak one. I can’t believe Sungjae beat Ken up for something he didn’t do.”

 

“How did you know?”

 

“Because it was me. I ratted you out.” Ravi shoots him a side-glance. His droopy eyes tells all. It’s all over between N and Ravi. 

 

N’s heartbeat drops dead. His hand freezes over the beer bottle. “How did you find out I was an escort?” N doesn’t under understand why he suddenly get defensive over his past. He is proud his persona.

 

“By accident,” Ravi says, “I was looking for Ken’s baby photo to give it to his grandma.” Ravi takes another swig. “I never got the chance to meet her.”

 

N vaguely knows that he grips the bottleneck too tightly. Veins pop to his forearms. “Why did you to tell everyone?”

 

“I’m making things the way it was supposed to be two years ago. You should’ve owned up to your actions, not running away like a coward after beating up someone.”

 

N raises the empty bottle over his head and it comes down in a clank. Ravi shields himself as it shatters to pieces against the pavement next to him. He brushes some shards off his pants. “That’s the kind of attitude that got you into shit. I thought you knew by now.”

 

“I don’t know shit. I don’t get you, Kim Wonshik. You’re not God. This is not a damned story that you write; this is my life.”

 

“This is my life too. I want our lives to cross. I have a choice too.”

 

“I don’t get why you made that choice.”

 

Ravi staggers onto his feet. “It’s not that complicated. I want us to be on equal ground again.”

 

“You sick bastard.” N picks up the broken half of the bottle, gripping it, he comes near Ravi.

 

Ravi smirks. “Go ahead.  Stab me through my heart. If you think that’s fair game.”

 

“None of this is a fucking game, Ravi.”

 

“I don’t treat this like a game either. I’m serious about what I do. And I don’t regret it.”

 

N drops the broken part to the ground. It is jarring. It reminds him where he is right now, facing a man he thought he knows well. His palm splits open and bleeds.

 

 

**Park**

  
  


The sun is shining down on Leo blessing him; the sweats are the proof that he is living and breathing. On the way to Twosome Cafe, he follows the winded paths beneath the quilted green leaves. He will not be able to feel anything until he has his first-cup of coffee. The coins jingle in his pocket, ready to find home in the cashier. The puppies that stroll past by him send some electricity coursing through his body. He smiles at the fluffy animals, avoiding eye contacts with the owner. His smile spreads further when he imagines Hongbin next to him, growing stiff at the sight of the small dogs. He’s been having a canine-phobia ever since Poki bit his finger. “My finger wouldn’t be a finger if I didn’t pull back fast enough,” said Hongbin. Leo laughed at him, telling him you shouldn’t be pulling back at all if you want to keep your precious finger. Poor Poki. He almost swallowed the ring that Leo had given him.

 

He strolls past the old man lying on the bench under the frying sun. His white beaten tank top rides up to his chest, revealing the grimy stomach bulging a baby bump under his gray skin. A plastic ramen bowl sits under the bench. His half-open eyelids tracks Leo lazily. A sheen of sweat covers his face. 

 

Leo reaches for his coins in his pocket. He bends a bit and let the coin slides to the bowl. They slide to their detour. There’s no “thank you”. Leo can’t help but feeling a little bit disappointed. I’m doing good things. Are you watching, Hongbin? 

 

Once on a date, they walked past Hongdae to shop for Ken’s birthday gift, Hongbin gave a dollar to a homeless man. When they turned around the corner, they encountered another one, he surprised Leo by putting a coin in his also. By the third person, Leo had to ask “why?” “I’m being fair,” said Hongbin.

 

Leo rubbed Hongbin’s head then, a gesture that he’d do to a child. He told him that he’s a rare gentleman. Hongbin looked at him like he’s crazy.

 

“Hi.” A young girl stops in his track and asks for his attention. “Will you please take this flyer for me?”

 

Doing good is contagious; the girl must have saw him giving up his coffee money to a stranger. Leo stuffs the flyer promoting the Vow of Silence in his pocket. It is a campaign trying to raise money to build an elementary school in a village. He will throw it out later. 

 

He swipes on his phone. He texts Hyuk: “Vow of Silence. Start now.”

 

Hyuk’s reply is quick: “Okay, hyung.” He ends it with a cheerful smiley face. 

 

Leo reaches into his other pocket for his earphones. He stuffs the earphone into his ears. The world falls off of his feet as soon as Ravel’s composition replaces the boiling world that grills him alive. He remembers the shocked expression that Hongbin made once he found out that Leo listened to music; and that he actually enjoyed and praised the musicians. “You like doing anything fun?” Leo had to hit his head. Leo doesn’t mind plunging into the quietness once in awhile. It’s his choice to shut his mouth. He learned to live with the silence around him. He has to live alone if he has to.

 

Leo hasn’t run too far though. When he hits his three miles mark in front of the traffic light, the music and his inner world are rudely interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. “Taekwoon,” his mother says, “you’re having lunch with me at twelve sharp.” He hears the quiet on the other side. “I want you to meet someone.”

 

Is that also suppose to be fun in Hongbin’s category? Leo keeps his vow and turns off his phone.

  
  


 

**Restaurant**

 

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Leo’s mother says.

 

Leo brushes past her and steps into the effortlessly comfy restaurant overlooking the resting harbour. A plump seagull trots along the deck, looking forward the long day to end. The only people who would feel uncomfortable would be the people who are too deprived of privilege to enter, or people who are here for business purposes.

 

Leo slides into one of the white benches lined with embroidered cushions across from her. Even though there is another woman waiting by herself by the window, he knows that he greets the right one. She’s not the prettier one but her diamond watch catches the light from the sunshine. It has to be her.

 

“You’re Jung Taekwoon-sshi?” she asks.

 

Leo nods.

 

She smiles. “I’m Xie Ning.” She pushes the menu towards him. “The fish tacos are all local.”

 

Leo shakes his head. He sips on his cold water.

 

Xie Ning hums. “Have some wine.” She pours the sour-smelling wine into an empty glass.

 

It’s too early for wine. Leo waves his hand. It’s too early to marry her.

 

“We can go skating after.” Her expression darkens. “Are you mute?”

 

Leo shakes his head. 

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Leo mouths two words to her. Xie Ning jumps from her seat. “You don’t even know me. You’re wasting my time.” She walks away without a goodbye. She is already speaking to her headpiece about rescheduling a lunch meeting with her real estate client. She’s too busy to spare another glance at Leo. Rather, Leo is already being forgotten.

 

Mrs. Jung marches over in her high heels. “What happened?”

 

Leo types on his phone before showing the screen to her: “I told her that ‘I’m gay.’”

 

“Don’t joke around like this. It’s not funny. They will think it’s true. What kind of girl you like? We’ll make it work for you.”

 

Leo shrugs. the screen flashes: “Someone like you, beautiful but stern. I need to be disciplined.” 

 

“You’re playing that stupid game again.” Her palm comes down hard on the table, it sounds like a slap across Leo’s placid face. It disrupts the artificial utopia that is contained in the restaurant. “Talk to me.”

 

I talked, but you didn’t listen.

  
  
  


 

**Conference**

  
  


“N Confesses His Sins: Is This the End For the Ballad Singer?” Hyuk stares at the title that he just typed on his word document. He is not suppose to be sitting with the panels amongst the paparazzis, but somehow, he needs to keep his Ken hyung company. Neither of them are suppose to on the floor, but they need to see how it will all end.

 

Hyuk glances over at Ken. He is fidgeting with his phone, cracking a smile over a funny video on his dashboard. His hand reaches over and clasps his wrist in a light hold. Ken looks up at him, and his smile dissipates. “Look at this one,” says Ken. On the screen, Hyuk watches the zoo pandas slipping off the slides one after another, crashing into each other’s soft fur, then they climb up the stairs to do it all over again. 

 

“It’s a slippery slope,” says Hyuk.

 

As if what he said killed whatever joyous mood that Ken pretends to be in, he puts his phone away. “What do you want to eat after this? Gopchang?”

 

Hyuk nods. Ken is calmer now than the last conference that N held nearly three years ago, though his appearance is peeling off like a weathered wall, and Hyuk is that fly on the wall.

 

“Do you think N will eat with us?-” asks Ken. The mentioning of N halts his speech. He doesn’t speak to Hyuk anymore.

 

The commotion of reporters around Hyuk grabbing their cameras signals that the tragic character of the gong show has walked out from the waiting room and onto the stage, into the galley. The wood creaking underneath N sounds like the plank that the traitorous sailor walks upon. Hyuk is holding his breath. Ken takes a half-hearted picture of N wearing a black suit before putting it down. 

 

N bows to all sides. The deja vu of the few years branded deeply in Hyuk’s brain. It is one of the most unforgettable moments in his short life. N’s serene look was far from the regretful look at the last conference. This time, he truly looks like a dying man awaiting his fate.

 

The crowd beneath is even more merciless than last time. They transforms from annoying hyenas to crocodiles stretching their jaws wide, ready to bite into a flesh of the former star. Cursing words for the “gays”, “liars”, “fake” course through the spectators. N is never a fake. He is just being himself. 

 

Hyuk tries to meet eyes with Ken, but he looks away. His profile is saying “don’t ask me. I don’t know anything.”

 

N settles down in his seat. His head bends over a little when he utters the intractable words. “I understand that I lost the position to apologize, so I won’t.”

 

Hyuk’s gaze fleets to Ken, but Ken still looks down at his hands. Hyuk wants to shake him and yells at him, “Did you hear what that dumbass is saying? Does he know that his life is ruined the moment that the pictures and accounts of being a drag queen leaked out? This so gay.” Hyuk forces himself to look back at N again. 

 

He has that same old expression of being defeated, despite that his words are full of thorns and contempt. “I admit that I do like men only. I lied about it last time after I was charged with the assault case. I was never ashamed of it. I realized now that it was not right of me to hide who I am and brush everything under the rug, pretended nothing happened.”

 

The room around Hyuk spins. Take your words back. Now he wants to scream at N instead. You idiot. Why do you want to ruin yourself? You just have to stay low and hushed your lips. No one will have to know what happened ever. You would have still be my brightest star in the universe. His phone suddenly vibrates in Hyuk’s jacket. Millions of notifications denouncing N’s sexuality are about to burst through its metal cage.

 

“There is one person I want to take the time to apologize though,” says N. “I’m sorry to my dear friend whom I betrayed a long time ago. I’m sorry that I shut you out when you desperately wanted to support my dream. I’m sorry that I couldn’t consult you about my coming-out to the public either.” N sucks in a breath. “But I hope we can start fresh and be there for each other in the future.”

 

Hands and claws shoot up in the air all at once. Those questions are like scavenger birds feasting on an already-dead corpse. “Is he your boyfriend?”; “Aren’t you sorry towards your fans?” Someone may have even mutter: “go to Hell.”

 

Hyuk walks away from a show that means nothing to most people. He doesn’t check this time if N is watching him go.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think of it so far. Subscribe for more. :)


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